#When they find a Bigger Picture time to dispose of the people

[specialagentartemis]

Listening to Wolf 359, I never got the sense that the crew’s deaths were reported as soon as they left Earth.

I thought their deaths were reported the Christmas that Hilbert called to Earth with the Theta Scenario.

No, it’s clear that Goddard never really expected them to survive or succeed, but for the first part of the mission, Command was in semi-regular contact with the crew; Command only really abandoned them after the Theta Scenario turned out to be bunk. It’s also clear that Lovelace’s crew was well-chosen and wasn’t meant to die, so it’s not like Goddard considered Wolf 359 a total wash of a potential opportunity.

Basically, I think the first year and a half of the mission was legitimate. Hell, I think “Are the Space Suits Itchy?” was even somewhat legitimate and not wholly faked—why waste the astronauts they already have up there, after all? I think their deaths were only reported when the Theta Scenario in the s1 finale happened, when it became obvious they could not be allowed to survive. I don’t think Goddard ever particularly intended to bring them back, but I don’t think faking their deaths was worth doing until they found something worth covering up.

[hillbillyoracle]

So you can't get out of bed...

This is a resource list for all those who are having trouble getting out of bed. Whether that's because of injury, disability, or mental health, this collection of resources should help address some of the common pain points I've experienced over the years. Some will require modification if truly bedbound but my hope is this sparks ideas and gives you a place to start.

A warning: this is a *long* post. I went for thoroughness over brevity so people had options where possible.

Food

This video from Sarah McGlory of Adaptive Cleaning details her system.

It is excellent. I have a similar bin to her first in my room for high pain and low mood days. Prioritize high fiber and high protein shelf stable foods. Make sure electrolytes and water are within easy reach.

If grocery trips are too much, it's worth looking into pick up or delivery. In my experience, the delivery services through stores are better than Instacart and the like. The retailer who must not be named also has a great snack selections that hold up pretty well in transit.

Fruit + veggie pouches, baked chips, and RXBars are some of my favorites to keep on hand.

Clean Space

This video from KC Davis of Struggle Care details her "Five Things Tidying Method".

If you can't tidy your whole space, focus on the walkways. Make sure you have a walkway to your bedroom door, to your front door (or other way to leave your house), to the bathroom, and to the kitchen or where you store food.

Another tip from KC Davis - if you're struggling to get your plates back to the kitchen before they stick or attract bugs, get gallon sized plastic bags and seal the plates inside of them. You can always wash and reuse them once you've delivered it safely to your sink or dishwasher. When you're just surviving, it's just as okay to toss them after.

Bonus: This no-mess method of decluttering from Dana K. White is low energy friendly. You can stop whenever and your space is still better.

Hygiene

This post details my care kit that I use.

If you're unable to shower regularly, I'd add in some baby wipes. Yours probably won't look exactly like mine but I hope it can be a jumping off point. If I could only pick two items, it'd be the disposable toothbrushes and a good facial lotion (since it can also be used on the body). If you can't bare to change your clothes, just change your underwear. This helps prevent health issues down the road.

Movement

Arm Workout in Bed: [3 Min] [5 Min] [10 min]

Core Workout in Bed: [3 Min] [5 Min] [10 Min]

Leg Workout in Bed: [3 Min] [5 Min] [10 Min]

Yoga in Bed: [Morning] [Anytime] [Evening]

Stretching: [5 Min] [10 Min]

If you're able to stand + move but not up for leaving your room, then Rick Bhullar's walking workouts are great in a small space.

For a long time, I thought that you could only get exercise by getting dressed in specific clothes and going outside or to a gym. Now I know that there are lots of options for getting a little movement in bed. Even a short 3 min workout a day can help decrease muscle atrophy. Don't let perfect be the enemy of good enough.

Bonus: I also just walk laps around my room/apartment. You don't have to go outside. It can get a little boring sure. But quick 5-10 min walking breaks through out the day add up.

Spirituality

This is ultimately going to be specific to you and your tradition. Even if you are not religious at all taking a moment to think about your bigger picture values is important. Since my core spiritual path is Buddhism, here are some recommendations in that vein. I could not find good links for all of these. I don't necessarily do all of these everyday but I try to do a few.

Three Refuges by Plum Village

The Five Precepts by Access to Insight

The Five Remembrances on Wikipedia

Chanting Om Mani Padme Hum

Chanting Namo'valokiteshvara

Reciting the Heart Sutra

Bonus: A pagan practice I enjoy is reciting the hymns to the planet of the day. Offering water and incense is great but optional. Praying to and thanking ancestors and land spirits is also a great practice.

Alternatives to Social Media

It's easy to get stuck in the black hole of scrolling. It's good to have something enjoyable to pivot to.

Cozy Games

My favorites are Stardew Valley, Wingspan, and Animal Crossing. The first two aren't terribly expensive. A lower cost alternative to Animal Crossing would be Cozy Grove which regularly goes on sale. Sims can be cozy as well - minus any pool shenanigans.

Slowly

This is an app that allows you to send messages but delivers them on a delay based on how far away you are from someone. It makes it fairly easy to find penpals though, as with anything, it can be hit or miss. I've even convinced a few of my irl friends to try it and write them little letters on there. The delay makes receiving them more special. It's a great way to play letter writing rpgs with friends. I'm currently using it to play Grandpa's Farm with my partner.

750 Words

Ever wished you could do morning pages digitally? That's what 750 words started out as being but you can ultimately use it however you want. Some people use it to hit word counts on their writing projects. I'm a fan of using it to brain dump and then micro journal. It does cost a small fee after 30 days but it's by far been worth it to me.

FeederWatch

Getting outside - even if it's just for 5 minutes - once a day is a great goal. But if you can't, take a break and watch one of these feeder streams for a while. Even just seeing images of the outdoors, is calming. I sometime throw this up on one screen while I'm playing a cozy game or doing some non-screen activities.

Screen Breaks

We all know it's important to take screen breaks - but it's extra important to do it when you're in bed and you're screens are a big part of how you spend your day. Below are some of my favorite ways to take a break. 10 minutes every two hours or 20 minutes every three hours can make a big difference.

Postcrossing or writing letters to friends

Solo RPGs - here are some of mine, here's a D&D example

Free adult coloring pages

Read a Book - reading challenge, get personalized recommendations

Play a solitaire card game - there are so damn many now

Walk around for 5-10 minutes, bonus if it's outside.

Volunteer

One of the big feelings that come up for me when I'm mostly in bed is that I feel like a burden to others. Rather than trying to "be productive" I've found it's much better to try to positively contribute to others even if it's in small ways - sending a text to someone remembering/thanking them for something kind they did for me, ordering a little present for someone I know who's had a rough time, sending a card to someone who has a birthday coming up. The little stuff really helps people.

If you don't have many people in your life like that to help or you'd like to help some strangers too here are some other options.

Sigma Phi Eta

This is a 100% online and free greek service org I'm trying to get off the ground. 3 hours of service to become a pledge which count towards the 10 needed to become a member. 10 hours each year to stay active. We maintain an updated list of online/distanced volunteer opportunities as we find them. We have service awards for those who want to go above and beyond. Plus once you're a member you can wear our letters.

We're small right now but if you want a group of people to talk service and grow with - come join us!

Letters Against Isolation

LAI is probably my favorite charity I volunteer for. Volunteers write cards and letters to people in nursing homes, assisted living, and those connected to senior centers through Meals on Wheels and other programs. They're always adding new facilities so the need is always growing. They have facilities in multiple countries they write to and could use people who speak another language especially.

Warm Up America

Mostly for crocheters and knitters - this org accepts donations of all kinds of patterns and distributes them to smaller projects and charities who otherwise wouldn't be able to access these kind of goods at scale. I've made a few things for them - simple hats - and greatly enjoyed the process. Great use for your cheaper acrylic yarns.

7 Cups

I've had a mixed experience with 7 Cups. I really have enjoyed my experiences chatting with people on there but it can be really hit or miss as to whether I feel like I've helped people. There's also the usual people who try to use any chat service for sex. That aside, I still think their training is pretty good and it can feel meaningful when you're able to connect with someone who's not doing so hot.

Checklist

Have you cleaned yourself + changed clothes? [ ]

Have you tended to your spirituality? [ ]

Have you fed yourself? [ ] [ ] [ ]

Have you tended to your space? [ ]

Have you gotten some movement in? [ ]

Have you taken a social media break? [ ] [ ] [ ]

Have you taken a screen break? [ ] [ ] [ ]

Have you volunteered or done something nice for another person? [ ]

[cinnamonest]

This is by far my favourite genshin yan blog, the way you write the characters are so like how i picture them! My question is, of all the mortal genshin boys, other than Razor, which do you see as the top handful of yans being most mentally determined to find you and bring you home if you managed to escape, even across the continent? Like, the LEAST willing to just give up eventually and find a new darling?

Uwahh ty anon <3

I like that you had to specify “other than Razor” lol

Obviously all are gonna be rather determined to find you again, but some in particular that come to mind:

-----

Ayato keeps a fairly humble exterior, but in truth, he has a sense of pride, and when that pride is wounded, it’s not something he can easily forgive.

Of course, he has quite a large amount of resources at his disposal, so he'll likely be able to find you rather quickly, in which case you'll get the cold treatment and quite a firm talking-to, after which the matter will be let go of, albeit gradually. Still, it won't be treated as that big of a deal.

Not that he isn’t attached to you, of course, but that pridefulness is a large part of his motivation in tracking you down. It’s not just ‘how could you leave me,’ but it’s more ‘how dare you leave me.’ It’s offense, anger, bitterness. You don’t get to do that. He’s not about to take such an insult without putting every resource he has at his disposal into correcting what he feels to be a transgression against him.

If, on the other hand, even all the subordinates he has on hand can't find you within a day or so, then it becomes a bigger issue. He initially had a few people sent out to retrieve you, but in this case, he'll instead direct all of the staff he has available to do so.

Over time, though, the longer you stay unfound, the more he begins to lose composure. Becomes more irritable, less emotionally stable, begins to uncharacteristically snap at people and lose his temper. Which he realizes and is self-aware of, often stopping and catching himself mid-sentence and forcing himself to calm down... the realization that he's acting so unusually undignified just drives him to put that much more effort in.

Which is also why, by the time you are finally found, it's far from a warm welcome home. You're treated with a rather cold demeanor, narrowed eyes downcast to look at you with disdain. He treats it as quite the offense, which is why you'll never be given such an opportunity again... and frankly, in part due to the fact that he's worried of what would become of his sanity if that were to ever occur again.

-----

Tighnari is a bit sad to witness, really. It’s yet another instance of the whole “mate for life” thing drives him to find you at all costs, his brain is hardwired to have a ‘one and only’ in a way a human’s brain is not. Life ceases to feel worthwhile, nothing else seems to be of any importance. He’ll forget to eat and sleep.

His mental state will gradually deteriorate the longer you’re gone. It's not a matter of logical reasoning that he's likely to find you, and while despair and longing is certainly a major element in it all, that's still not the root cause. It's a sense of wrongness. His brain is constantly alerting him to a sense of something being wrong and needing immediate resolution, an instinct that's subconscious rather than conscious, like pain or hunger, a sensation that is hardwired into the brain and will not go away until the issue is fixed.

People feel a lot of pity for him. He doesn't eat much, doesn't sleep. He'll go out into the forest, aimlessly wandering around, as if expecting to find something. Constantly searching, often to the point he's at the brink of collapse from exhaustion. He takes trips out into the city, to the desert, everywhere he can think of.

He also, probably more so than any other listed here, undergoes personality change, in which he essentially gradually becomes a hollow shell. Rarely speaks. All his movements become slow and lethargic, he walks around with glazed-over eyes staring out into nothing. It's such an innate instinct, he's essentially incapable of functioning normally, his very body begins to shut down out of grief as he becomes emaciated and dull-eyed.

That being said, pitiful as it is, and as tempted as you may be to feel bad for him, that also means it will be extremely unfortunate for you if you were ever found again. The experience leaves him utterly traumatized, to the extent that if you're found, you can be absolutely certain that you will never have the opportunity to leave ever again, regardless of how extreme the measure to ensure it may be.

-----

Childe is similar to Ayato in that it's partially a pride matter, but it's not a matter of that pride being offended by you running off, so much as it is maintaining it by being able to get you back. That is, he won't see your running off as a slight against him or hold a grudge, but he stakes his confidence in being able to hunt you down with ease.

Far more importantly, however, he likes the challenge of it. It's part of who he is in general, he's the sort of boy that if you say "there's no way you can do that" or the like, it will suddenly become his utmost imperative to do exact the thing in question and not stop until he has accomplished proving you wrong. It's practically compulsive, he has to prove that he is capable of whatever he decides to do, and the thought of being wrong and thus incapable is infuriating. Likewise, you running off is essentially an indirect way of you presenting a challenge to him. How could he ever just sit back and let you go, or not put full effort into finding you?

His attitude changes a bit, though, depending on the duration of time consumed. For the first little while, he treats it sort of like a game, has fun with the whole matter. He doesn't even seem all that upset that you've gotten out; if anything, he's almost excited by it.

Once you've disappeared for some time, though, and he begins to feel like he actually might not be able to find you, that you might get away, his attitude changes. Now he's actually getting nervous, and more importantly, the fact that you successfully hid from him for such a duration of time is... irritating. Basically you getting one over on him, and it feels like you're mocking him... in his head he can practically see you being all smug about it. Makes him grind his teeth, clench his fists.

The angrier he gets, the more frantic and desperate he gets with his search. Normally, he'll be slower about it, likes to see you squirm and finds it cute to see how you will try to hide away somewhere, so he likes to give you enough time to make it to potential "help" and all that, just to see you despair when it all falls apart anyway. But on the rare occasion you hide a little too well, and suddenly he actually can't find you, then it's a problem, and he'll be far stricter and harsher with his searching, and far more emotionally volatile to those around him.

Eventually this can become too much. If it takes too long and he genuinely panics, he'll even drop the usual snarky demeanor after finally finding you, too upset to even mock you, entirely focused on anger and prioritizing taking you back. So if you're finally found, but he's uncharacteristically quiet and cold, it's not a good sign for your immediate future.

-----

Heizou... well, he thinks he can find you, so he sets his mind to it.

He's a much more mentally stable yandere than most, but when it comes to you disappearing, when the situation arises, he has to calm himself down and remind himself that this is basically his specialty, is it not? He's been on plenty of missing persons cases before. He just needs to apply the same methodology he would use for those.

Of course, his personal emotions do get in the way of his efficiency. Due to being very lucid and all, his primary feeling in the moment is intense paranoia and panic that you're going to go to law enforcement. The first thing he does, actually, is head to the station himself, thinking he might catch you there if that is where you decided to go... but then again, you'd probably not do that for obvious reasons. In which case...

He has to calm himself down, but putting his mind to work helps with that process. He goes about it just as he would with anything else, making a mental list of possibilities, narrowing it down and prioritizing the most likely of those possibilities, then gradually begins checking each and using process of elimination. He has to keep his mind distracted, treat it like a case, or else he knows he's going to break down.

But in terms of dedication, he can keep it up for a very, very long time, and puts in every ounce of effort he has, everything he's learned over his years, into seeing it through. This, too, is largely about his own sanity. He focuses his entire mental energy into treating it like a case because he knows he'll fall apart if he doesn't, and thus, he's incredibly dedicated. He has to keep focusing on it, not take his mind off of it. The moment he begins to let himself despair, he'll give into paranoia, and quite possibly fully lose his mind.

Thus, in a way, continuing searching is what keeps him sane. If he stops, he'll be constantly paranoid, constantly panicked, but at least searching for you gives his brain a faux sense of progress, which calms him down... although, given enough time without success, that coping method might start to fail too...

-----

Although what is perhaps the absolute worst isn't immortal nor in any particularly notable position of power.

Kaeya is driven by a lot of things. Love, sure, it's part of it.

But primarily, above all else, when he comes home one day to an empty room, he goes through a few stages. First panic, grief, you know, the expected emotions, the whole process of frantically checking around for you, slowly coming to terms with reality. He then falls into a deep depression, lasting around two or three days, drinks himself to the point of unconsciousness at least twice over.

And then, when he wakes up slumped onto the couch, head pounding and dizzy, staring up at the ceiling, the hurt is quickly overridden by a new sentiment: pure, unadulterated spite.

It's no secret to you, after living with him for so long, that despite the exterior, he's not exactly the most emotionally stable person in the world, that he has quite his fair share of unresolved psychological issues.

It's a bit different from the pridefulness of precious entries. It's an extension of pride, tied to it, but it's more... malicious. Vengeful. Driven by a desire not just to get you back out of love, nor out of desire to restore a sense of pride, but because getting you back is the only way he can ensure you suffer.

Which is why you probably should have known better. You're just inviting the potential consequences. And that spite is one hell of a motivator.

Day in, day out. He takes time away from work, comes up with an excuse about an emergency that must be dealt with. Uses any and every resource at his disposal. Embezzles funds before he departs if necessary.

You think you can just get up and walk off. After everything he's done for you? No, no, you don't get to do that to him. You're not allowed to do that, you don't get to get away with that. It's a bitter, seething feeling, but that sensation just drives him to work harder. It can be easily utilized and converted into energy and dedication, like fuel to an engine.

He doesn't really have any limits to what he's willing to do, either. Unlike some that would still maintain their ethics, if threatening or hurting people is necessary to get information, it's not something he'll hesitate to do.

He may not have what others have — underlings at his command, the animal senses, the professional investigative background, the unlimited lifespan of time, or any of the other advantages that everyone else listed here has — but he gets the top ranking here purely by merit of relentless, boundless, unhinged determination. And, of course, unhesitating use of extreme measures and remarkable willingness for violence doesn't hurt. Quite the force to be reckoned with, and you really don't want to be on the receiving end of the vengefulness fueling it all... not that you have much of a choice, as you will be found eventually, no matter how far.

And yet, despite how unlikely it is, somehow, you know. When you come back one day and notice the lights are all out and door hanging open, you feel dread. When you walk in to a quiet, dark room, walk around the home with trembling footsteps, come to a halt and feel your eyes go wide as you look down to some indistinguishable shapes lying on the floor, you know immediately. Without having to think, without having to wonder, without any clues to go on. You just immediately, instinctively know. Even before you feel a presence right behind you, even before you slowly turn your head over your shoulder...

And you did, in fact, manage to get pretty far. Found some nice people that let you stay with them. How nice of them.

For most people, it would seem like you were in the clear, and even now, whenever you get paranoid, look around with nervous eyes in public and all, people tell you you're letting it get to your head, that there's nothing to worry about. But you can't shake the feeling.

[no1ryomafan]

Getter Robo Song Analysis 1: Saga

Welcome to Getter song analysis! The series in which I look at Getter's wide selection of songs and breakdown what they could possibly mean. This franchise has lots to pick from, but a poll decided the first will be Saga, a song featured in New Getter Robo.

Saga without a doubt is one of my top Getter songs and is a good example of News unique ost of mixing electric instruments with traditional Japanese ones. Within this song we get guitars, flutes and saxophone, but I’m not going to be breaking down the technical part of the song. For all analysis I’m mainly going to focus on the lyrics, though I will be taking note of the choice of instruments as well as where the song plays for this and future analysis.

To my knowledge it’s not a huge debate in the fandom, but Saga is clearly a song about one of the Getter Team members. Some may see it as a team song with how each instrument could represent one of the pilots-rock/guitar for Ryoma, jazz/saxophone for Hayato and traditional/flutes for Benkei-but as we will soon see with the lyrics, the entire song is sung in first person so it has to be about one particular member.

And who do I think the song is about/sung by? Without a doubt, it’s our favorite terrorist, Hayato Jin.

One major supporting piece of evidence that doesn’t relate to the lyrics is the song itself was used during a fight Hayato has in episode 7, in which he and Benkei barely manage to take out a Oni without Ryoma being with them. However, one may just think at first this is just a song to play as background music with no real significance as we also see what Ryoma is up to as this song plays. So, to really prove this is a Hayato song, I have to break down the lyrics first and then relate them back to the show. (Source: some YouTube comment lol. Also highly encourage to listen to Saga yourself along with this)

Lyrics are pasted above for anyone who’s curious what this song even means. I will be breaking down almost all of it bit by bit, only excluding some of the repetitive parts. So let’s begin:

“The days of battle drag on, with no sight in end. Today I wander this world once more”

Now with these first two lyrics it does seem like this could be related to Ryoma, being how his time in the past is spent with a lot of fights or how this fits from the perspective of the show's ending, I still think there’s an argument to be made that relates to Hayato. Hayato was also wandering around, for about a month and while he didn’t get a firearm until much later, there’s no telling if he didn’t get into a few fights when he first arrived. 

As for him wandering the world, this refers to both the past but also the present as we see even if Hayato did have some minions at his disposal, we know he wandered around places as seen with a picture Saotome has of him.

But this is far from the biggest indicator this is a Hayato song, so let’s continue on:

“What I seek is lost in a maze. My impatience is growing, and into these fists it goes. I can’t stand it anymore”

This line is a much BIGGER indicator this is a Hayato song. The first line referring to what he sneaks is the Getter, the maze being metaphorical. The Getter isn’t in a maze but rather it’s such a complicated thing for him to understand that finding the truth feels like he’s going through one.

We know Hayato shows impatience with the Getter as he constantly questions and bargains with Saotome for answers, only to get cryptic responses. With the second line you’d think fists would again be associated with Ryoma as Hayato is seen to more claw at people, but I see it less as he’s punching someone and more so clutching his fist that the answer is still not in his grasp. 

The last line here is Hayato expressing his frustrations of not knowing the answers he seeks, as it constantly eats him alive to know what the Getter even is.

And if this isn’t enough to show this is Hayato, these next few lines will.

“Getter Getter Getter. A burning flame I couldn’t hide. Getter Getter Getter. Rises from the wilderness”

The first line is very obvious but I see it as Hayato chanting his obsession for the Getter, which makes it all the more ironic how this part becomes a repetitive ear worm in the song, much like how thinking about the Getter is repetitive for him.

The second line again feels like something that could be Ryoma as he could be comparable to a burning flame, but given it's followed right after the first line about Getter, it’s more so to Hayato that the Getter is a burning obsession of his that he couldn’t escape from.

Third line I don’t need to repeat, so what about the fourth one? I was confused about the wilderness part at first until I tied this back to the context in the show: The Getter for decades in the past was trapped under a mountain, and Hayato freed it with dynamite. It quite literally did rise from the wilderness.

“Something leads me on, I keep running on. I am the destined warrior”

Hoooo this one is a lot to unpack.

The first line is clearly referring to new things about the Getter to keep Hayato from following after it, the running in this context isn’t him running away from it, it’s specifically him running after it.

In Hayato’s mind he is the one destined to find the truth about the Getter, to be chosen by it, despite how far from the truth this is as the Getter clearly favors Ryoma, which is something Hayato becomes extremely jealous of him later for.

“I gaze at the sunset. Going down so slowly, taking forever. Will I be roaming the earth again tomorrow?”

These few lines are a tough one to crack as I don’t know how exactly they relate to Hayato compared to the other ones and likely we’re just here for either rhyming or just for a visual image, but I’m gonna try to tie to him the best I can.

I interpret all these lines together as Hayato did in fact win the battle from earlier, whether you see this as a random fight or the Oni he does fight in the show, and now the day is coming to an end. He's questioning if he’ll live to see another day stuck in the past and have to fight again.

“The meaning of love and justice is lost upon me. I have one mission, strike and let loose. It’s time”

First line here is really tricky to breakdown, especially because you’d never expect the word love to be in a sentence relating to a man like Hayato, but I interpreted this as love and justice is a job he has for protecting humanity under the Getter guide, even if he doesn’t seem to quite understand them. (Kinda hard when you’re a former terrorist who never valued human life before)

This second line is Hayato giving into his true nature of being very violent, how it’s highest priority just to tear into things and not really protect anything. The last line likely doesn’t have any implications, other than he’s ready to fight once more.

We’re almost near the end of this song and while I won’t be breaking down the lines relating to the Getter, I’m still keeping them for the sake of formatting.

“Getter Getter Getter. My thirst compels me. Getter Getter Getter. To head for the battlefield once more”

These two new lines in the chorus tie back well to the build up, of how Hayatos violent tendencies are coming through again and are becoming so strong he NEEDS to give into them. He needs to keep fighting, no matter how many times this fight drags on.

This next lyric is the last new line in the song, as the rest of the song is just the chorus merged into one, so I will not be analyzing the end half any further. But what is the last line you may ask?

“Till I find the key to the truth, I need no peace”

And this last part is definitely a solid indicator this could be about Hayato. He’s actively seeking the truth and he doesn’t care about his own peace of mind. He won’t have it until he knows everything, which will be a never ending goal for him.

He will never know true peace when the Getter is an impossible question to be answered.

Now, before I conclude, I will say this song could definitely also be interpreted as Ryoma. It also plays during scenes where he’s fighting Oni alone and some of the lyrics can tie back to ultimately what happens to Ryoma in the end: Fighting forever and not caring for his own peace, trying to make his own path.

While it would be cool if this song was another allusion to it, and I won’t say my interpretation is fully right as somethings I was unclear about, there is just more evidence in this song for me to think it’s Hayato.

The certain choices of words they use, the fact that in the show it also plays during a fight he has, and not to mention there are already enough songs about Ryoma. Not just Deep Red, but Dragon and No Serenity have parallels between them referring to him. (Which I will also breakdown in a post at some point)

There is also the possibility this song, while not a team song, could be viewed as a song about any of the pilots. Maybe there’s stuff in this song that ties to Benkei I didn’t realize, but to me, this is definitely a Hayato song.

[missveryvery]

Edgy/misc OC ask meme ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ 5, 10, 15, 20, 25 for your most favorite little meow meow of an OC?

Edgiest Character: Kliment!

He was raised by a guerilla resistance group. Got scooped up by the other side in the middle of a suicide mission. Other side is nicer to him and also he gets intensely attached to the people there (one, Vadik, becomes his husband). But he still wants to set everything on fire and gets very "I've become what I hate" about it. You know how some guys are wifeguys? Kliment is a husbandguy. Absolutely unwell about his husband. He's stationed overseas and misses Vadik and gets very pensive and drinks in a tank top very attractively. He's very cool and "manly" in an action hero-type way that his partner in the field, Tsezar, finds obnoxious. 

5. How far is your OC willing to go to get what they want?

Well, his whole thing starts with him trying to blow himself up for The Cause and that's when he's a teenager so there’s your baseline. He's very "for the greater good" and "casualties are unavoidable" about things.

10. What's an AU that would be interesting to explore with your OC?

He's so intense and ridiculous I feel like he'd be right at home in some serious Game of Thrones + the Witcher fantasy bullshit. Like he already speaks like a dramatic elf.

15. Does your OC have a faceclaim? If so, who?

Hmm, not really. He has the same VIBES as Michael Fassbender's Magneto?! Like with a manifesto and especially the single manly tear and black turtlenecks. But they look nothing alike.

20. Does your OC have a tendency to get jealous? If so, how does this manifest?

He turns into a big baby if he feels like someone is offering his husband something he can't offer. He's not, for example, worried about Tsezar + his husband (Vadik) because Kliment knows he's cooler than Tsezar and that Vadik likes him better. But if it was someone that was like, mega cute he'd get very depressed and drink and smoke hotly and shed a single manly tear like "I can never offer Vadik such cuteness...I'm too broken, I'm trapping him in my haunted life when what he needs is someone pure and sweet without such dark shadows upon their souls". This bullshit continues until Tsezar tells Vadik and Vadik calls Kliment and talks him out of his weird emo hole.

The same thing would happen if Tsezar met someone way cooler than Kliment and started hanging out with him. He'd be really upset and feel like Tsezar was going to leave (?!?!) him for this cooler person but wouldn't know why. He's like a dog that sees a bigger dog and is like "wtf. wtf... this is ruining my life?!?!" but once he's made friends with the bigger dog and is assured he's not going to be replaced he calms down (re: he grew up being very disposable).

25. What is your favorite thing about your OC?

I think I like that he's so "ultra cool spy guy with a dark past" but then is also embarrassing. When he's younger he has no chill and wants to talk about politics and manifesto shit all the time. Picture a fucking teenager trying to lecture another teenager (Tsezar) about what a lumpenproletariat is. Very "sir, this is a Wendy's" bullshit. When he's older, only his very close friends get to see his cringe behavior but it's still there.

[spiderdreamer-blog]

The Legend of Vox Machina: The Nature of Change

The Legend of Vox Machina is two-thirds of the way into its second season, with three episodes left in terms of the adaptation of this portion of the campaign’s Chroma Conclave arc. I think on balance, it’s been pretty great! The first season tackling the Briarwoods arc was excellent, but as with most first seasons, it took a bit to find its creative identity and how to approach the material. The Conclave arc is bigger, bolder, and wider in scope, and they’ve done a hell of a job upping the stakes as well as their production values, already very good to start with. Additionally, there have been even more changes made to the story and character choices than there were in the first season. This has caused a lot of debate, inevitably, and I don’t begrudge people for DISLIKING some or even most of them; for my part, I think they took a bit to figure out how to translate Scanlan’s crass humor when at the table, much of the edge is taken off by his cast members’ genuine laughter and assurance that it’s all in good fun. And I think there have been some odd friendships seemingly lost in translation like Vax and Grog’s prank war, or Percy bonding with Keyleth initially because he thinks she’s the only other adult in the group. But outside of my own minor personal gripes, I think there has been a broad failure here of a proper analytical framework for an animated series as opposed to a tabletop campaign, and I wanted to dig into that in my own long-winded way. Strap in.

FROM HUMBLE BEGINNINGS

Where does one start a story? Good question. There are as many ways to begin weaving your tale as there are to end them. Once upon a time, long ago in a galaxy far far away, it was a dark and stormy night, and so on. The beginning is in many ways the most important part of your story because it’s setting the tone, the place, the time, and your characters. And much is dependent on genre too: if you’re, say, a romantic comedy, you might choose to begin with your protagonist at a low point in their personal relationships so that the conflict is immediately established.

Critical Role’s first campaign began in medias res, two years into the players and characters already knowing each other as respected adventurers and heroes of the realm. Thus, the audience was left at an initial disadvantage, and the cast created backstory videos to explain what the plot had been up to this point as well as the journeys of the characters. Thankfully, Matthew Mercer’s world of Exandria was fairly simple and standard in terms of its high fantasy leanings at first, and the initial streamed arc was a basic dungeon crawl as a quest given to them by NPC Allura Vysoren. By the time the adventures through the Underdark and Vasselheim were over, the story was ready to move into the far more personal and harrowing Briarwoods arc because we as an audience were now attached to those characters. Even so, much of this was dependent on the cast playing out those relationships in the theater of the mind, especially since Mercer’s minis and battle maps were far less elaborate at this point. We learned information as we went, and Mercer built the world to be far more robust as time went on, narrating descriptions of towns and cities to bolster that picture.

By contrast, animated series, like any other kind of film or TV, have many more tools at their disposal in order to help with these tasks even if there is a far shorter amount of time available because of how much time production takes and how expensive it is. Think about how Avatar: The Last Airbender begins with the refrain of “Water...earth...fire...air“. It then segues into Katara, one of our main and most important characters, explaining how those elements correspond to the four nations of her world, how “everything changed” when the Fire Nation decided to make war upon the others, the function and disappearance of the Avatar, and her belief that he will return some day. This is a lot of information and could have easily been dry exposition, but it gains our interest through the visuals of moving through the world map, the excellent music by Jeremy Zuckerman, and striking still images like the fearful closeup of Katara and Sokka in their village, as well as Mae Whitman’s heartfelt vocal performance. The effect is far more immediate. We know the danger of the current situation, we gain insight into Katara as a character (she has grown up in a terrible situation but not yet lost hope), and where our journey will go (the Avatar’s almost certainly going to show up again soon).

Thus, The Legend of Vox Machina opts for a different approach compared to the campaign or even other adaptations of pre-stream material like the Vox Machina Origins comics or novels like Kith & Kin: we’re still in medias res, but Vox Machina are not yet a cohesive unit of heroes that kings and arcanists call upon in their time of need, and they’ve been traveling together for a much shorter amount of time outside of pre-existing relationships like the twins or Pike and Grog. This is the largest and crucial change made in the adaptation, and key to understanding every other choice that comes out of it. Starting them off in a far more difficult position makes us more likely to root for them as the underdogs, such as when they’re laughed at in their introductory bar fight scene and then lick their wounds afterwards, wondering if they can change their luck. We see how their failure to save a village and children within it galvanizes them into vengeance and heroism in the Brimscythe encounter. This provides explicit proof that they can kick ass through the power of friendship and teamwork. Basic, but it gives everyone somewhere to grow from.

MECHANICS AND MEDIUM

Now, it is true that the Briarwoods arc did not have as many changes on a basic plot level. We still go from A to B to C in much the same manner; it helps a great deal that the Briarwoods arc itself was on the shorter side, and there was less to outright cut. But even here, there are myriad changes large and small, and much of them have to do with the filmmaking end of things. As an example: because the script cuts down much of the timescale, things happen more quickly and with juicier character interactions: Percy no longer has time to prepare for dinner with the Briarwoods to calmly disguise himself as Vax and avoid recognition, but instead has to sit and listen to them lie with his own face, finally able to stand it no longer. We are also able to gain more insight into the Briarwoods and some of their associates because we are no longer restricted to the party’s POV in all scenes. Delilah’s flashback to the deal she made with The Whispered One to save her beloved Sylas illuminates what was only hinted at in the campaign. Or take how Professor Anders, a fairly forgettable boss fight, becomes a genuine highlight through Stephen Root’s demented, sneering intellectual tones and showing us that he felt underappreciated by the De Rolos because they held his research back. Ripley too is boosted by actually helping the party with the acid trap, even if it’s only for her own survival, and escaping at a moment where it’s far more inconvenient for her to do so.

Yet despite these and other changes (I like in particular how Percy is in far more denial about Orthax’s hold over him and this adds considerably higher stakes to the fight with the demon), it’s still fairly compact as a story. The Conclave arc, meanwhile, has had far more drastic additions and subtractions to the plot. Because the original is so sprawling and epic, the party could afford to take their time and do the usual goofing off shenanigans in between fights. Not so here; time is of the essence, time the party increasingly seems to be running out of. And that seems to be the chief complaint rising up, that we’re rushing through things and not slowing down enough.

I do find a couple things funny with this statement. It’s always been a complaint of both fans and haters that the cast goofs off even when things are serious and does side trips. And of course there’s the infamous planning sessions where they can often argue in circles before finally deciding on a course of action. But this is a function of the tabletop stream medium; unless Matt decides to literally drop a dragon on them, he can let them take as much time as he wants.

The series, however, gains as much as it loses by cutting most of this down and switching things around. For one, the danger IS more immediate; losing allies like Kamaljiori as soon as they gain him ups the tension dramatically and keeps the threat ever-present, which is useful if you don’t want people to get bored in an action-adventure series. Or Grog, Pike, and Scanlan getting sent to Westruun in a botched plane shift spell adds intrigue to that; can Grog get his strength back in time? Additionally, the visuals, music, and performances can substitute for everyone narrating out every action. Sam Riegel dials down considerably as Scanlan and offers more sincerity to where we know his arc is headed. Vax’s connection with the Raven Queen is an outright horror movie at the moment with his flashes of images he doesn’t wholly understand, as well as hinting at his eventual fate. Or we can now truly see the guilt and shame on a young Grog’s face as he regards Wilhand, begging for life in Henry Winkler’s quavering, sympathetic voice. Parts that could feel a little weaker dramatically because Matt is not ultimately out to “win” the game and most heroic-aligned NPCs need to be at least a little accommodating no longer have that restriction; Troy Baker can bring the full force of Syldor’s personality to bear and make him a tougher challenge, such as dismissing Percy’s attempt to bolster Vex with his title and fueling her defense of herself and her friends.

(Sidenote: I’m very curious to see how the Mighty Nein series translates Yeza, who I felt and still feel is Matt’s most jarring example of this tendency)

Hell, what about the Conclave themselves? Even outside the casting of heavyweights like Lance Reddick and Cree Summer as Thordak and Raishan, we can now gain more insight into their motives and just how scary they are. An exchange between Umbrasyl and Kevdak has the danger of two politicians jockeying for position, and almost makes us feel sympathetic for the latter...almost. Ripley teaming up with Umbrasyl is another boost for a character who was great but appeared infrequently; by keeping her and Kelly Hu’s hot-but-evil purr around, we’re keeping her fresh and active.

THE FEMALE CHARACTER PROBLEM

This is where things get a little bit...trickier. Both Dungeons and Dragons and tabletop gaming at large have long-time problems of sexism, homophobia, racism, you name it; many a horror story has been told of gatekeeping assholes. And the reception to Critical Role was sadly no exception despite their evolving efforts to be an inclusive company and brand. Marisha Ray got the worst of it for sure in terms of her portrayal of Keyleth, being both a novice to D&D and streaming as well as Matt’s girlfriend, later fiancee and wife. But Laura Bailey and Ashley Johnson have had their fair share of mistreatment too: Vex was called a greedy bitch on the regular, Jester confounded everyone by rarely suffering serious consequences for her prankish actions (whatever the hell that means), and to this day Johnson is seen as the worst player at the table mechanically by rules lawyers because she commits cardinal sins like not remembering all her class abilities (in case you can’t tell, add a heavy sarcasm font to that). In response to this harassment, both Critical Role and the community made it increasingly clear these assholes weren’t welcome and they thankfully, slowly bled out of influence.

However, I must confess that it feels like we haven’t really left that sort of...defensive paternalism, for lack of a better phrase. Instead of treating the female cast members like adults, which they are, and fellow participants in the company and story, there is this odd parasocial insistence that anything they do that the audience doesn’t like is somehow forced upon them by the male cast members. To be blunt: we don’t have evidence this is the case. And while it would be folly to say that the CR team can do no wrong or have no biases because they are a majority cishet white group, their apparent sincere commitment to inclusive practices leaves me doubting that anything especially pernicious is going on.

What’s basically come to a head recently with The Legend of Vox Machina are complaints that they’ve either made the women characters too mean OR too nice. This hasn’t really come up with Pike (who I think is a much stronger character because Ashley has a much clearer thesis upfront and isn’t absent for huge chunks of the narrative), but I’ve seen both applied to Keyleth and Vex. Keyleth, I think, is a case of Marisha wanting to not exactly sand off her edges, but correcting what she saw as missteps because she the player didn’t know what she was doing. She’s less self-righteous about things like religion or that they shouldn’t make deals with groups like the Clasp because those conflicts have been substituted for putting more emphasis on her reckoning with the “uneasy lies the head that wears the crown” principle. I do miss that a little, but also, I think people are often reading more into those instances than what was actually there in terms of substance.

Vex is admittedly a difficult character to translate because in the campaign, so much of her arc is internal and subtle; she changes very slowly compared to Keyleth going from “nervous wreck” to “confident leader”. You can’t really do this in an animated series. Long-term character arcs are certainly POSSIBLE, but they genuinely require being communicated through clear shifts in visuals, writing, and performance. Thus Vex’s problems in particular have to be more blatantly shown: her stinginess causes problems with Zahra before they reconcile, she connects with Percy quicker because of shared experience, and she folds in on herself far more when talking with Syldor compared to Vax because she still wants a relationship and her brother has long given up on this.

And here’s where we get to the complaint I still find the most inexplicable because it seems to describe a totally different character than the one that exists onscreen: that making changes like this or Vax being present for Vex’s rescue of Trinket when he originally had no idea how she found him somehow makes her arc “all about men” and “not about herself”. I feel like this is an overcorrection from earlier feminist schools of criticism that women characters are all too often accessories to men and not their own full characters. Which I do still agree is v. bad, but also, saying that women can or should never have meaningful relationships with men because of our patriarchal systems of society...well, it just leaves a bad taste in my mouth. More to the point, it ignores that Laura had and has meaningful input into these relationships in the game as well as other campaigns: in addition to focusing much of her C1 roleplay on Percy, Syldor, Vax, and even Scanlan, Jester directly pursued Fjord because Laura wanted to try and romance her husband Travis Willingham in game and blatantly said this was her intent. It feels like people aren’t giving themselves permission to just...not like her choices because they don’t want to be lumped in with Those Assholes. And that’s a terrible way to treat yourself as a fan.

CONCLUSION

To sum it up: feel free to be a hater! You don’t have to suddenly like the show and the changes it makes because some random rambling asshole like me says so. But I think it is far more useful to look at what actually exists on the screen than making up an idealized version in your head of “this is how it’s supposed to go!” You’ll be happier, I’ll be happier, and we can enjoy things. Or don’t. It’s your choice.

[write-it-good-imagines]

Nothing More(M) - Three

~5k words, in this chapter we see how Mark and Sam navigate being apart from one another and how rain washes over the souls. Enjoy and don't hesitate to let me know what you think about it!

Don’t you want to try it? Are you scared to start? There’s no one you’ll find that’s quite like me.

Do you wanna take my broken heart?

Fame, music, concerts, freedom, artistry. In a fruitless attempt to sum up all that being an artist meant to Mark, the ability to walk up on the stage in front of as many as 60,000 people was exhilarating. It never stopped being meaningful. To inspire another person enough to have them watch and admire thyself was not only a privilege but also a responsibility.

Each concert began with the same mantra, it would be safe to assume for each of the seven members was the same. Each time they would walk on and make sure they enjoyed themselves to the maximum, as much as they made sure they would do their best. In the tumult of the shows, there was now something different.

All the love songs sounded a little different.

When the love song was hopeful, Mark performed happier. When the love song was desperate, Mark performed sadder. It all played a bigger part in the tapestry of each performance, but it would never go unnoticed by those closest to him.  With each show, the emotion grew little by little. And as much as Mark tried to dismiss it to the back of his head, it sneaked right back in when the lights turned down.

It always came back when he wanted to forget.

When the lights turned down over Jakarta, the boys were still bowing to the audience. Under the ravenous applause and the avalanche of confetti, the platform on the stage brought the boys down under the concert set. Another night ended in complete success.

Mark was the last one to dispose of his ear set. He stretched his arms above his head and felt a cramp starting to settle at his nape.

“Mark?” Jackson traced behind the group to match his pace with the other. “You good?”

“Yeah,” sighed Mark, massaging the tense muscles in his neck. “Just a little tired I guess.”

“Huh, we still have one week and a half to go, if you’re tired now... “ Jackson joked and nudged Mark with his elbow. “Getting old?”

Mark threw an arm around Jackson’s shoulder in a friendly hug. “No chance.”

“Passionate out there I’d say.” Jackson began, fidgeting. “Each concert getting only more passionate.”

“Yeah? Thanks. Aren’t we supposed to be like that?”

Silence.

“No?”

“I mean, sure.”

Jackson shrugged his shoulders. That’s when it hit Mark.

“Should’ve asked me to my face, Jackson.”

Jackson sighed. “I’m not good at subtleties!” He cleared his throat. “But you haven’t told us nothing in… ever since we left.”

“There’s nothing to tell, Jackson.”

Jackson stopped dead in his tracks, looking at the other with a much softer expression than he would have liked.

“There really isn’t.” Mark concluded, walking ahead of Jackson. “I am the sex. She was the sex. That’s it.”

Mark grabbed a bottle of water from an adjacent table to drown out the words, and the apparent reality. Spelling out loud that they never spoke after he flied out left a burn to his throat.

A couple thousand miles away, Samantha was jerking her body to the other side of the bed. She extended her hand to grab a hold of her phone. 2:15 AM. With a light groan, she threw her feet into her bed slippers, rose from the bed, and hugged her body into her bathrobe. Murphy perked an ear up in response to the sudden movement, but he was not interested enough to follow Samantha from his nest.

Samantha opened the kitchen window to fill her lungs with a breath of fresh air. When she unlocked her phone, she realized that her latest google search was still pointing to Mark’s band’s latest concert.

Jakarta: more than 20,000 fans delirious after boyband’s successful stop.

Live pictures from the concert were quick to flood the internet. Samantha’s finger hovered over a very flattering picture of Mark, half-naked on stage, his chiseled abdomen contracting with whatever movement he was making. One arm was lifted in the air to hype the crowd, the other holding up his microphone. The tattoo reaching over his right set of ribs was vivid to the eye.

The kiss in the locker of the club flashed into Samantha’s memory.

Samantha locked her phone and slid it across the kitchen counter, leaning herself against the window frame, with one arm hugging her side. To the contrary, what should have come to mind should have been the dirtier times, all the times her fingernails drew over his tattoos, reshaping them into muscle memory.

She sighed, her eyes fixated on the shimmering full moon. If she called, would he pick up?

“Probably not. He has all those girls to keep him busy.” Samantha lied to herself, unable to resist the urge to pick up her phone. She hesitated, reading Mark’s name on the screen over and over again. Until she tapped on it.

Once, twice… “Mark?”

The call went to voicemail. Her voice deflated in disappointment.

“All those girls to keep him busy.”

The next dawn, Samantha was already ready to leave for the hospital. Sleep was light and uncertain, and she tried to mask it with concealer and foundation. In a haste to leave the house, she grabbed her motorcycle helmet, to catch a ride in hopes of easing her mind.

Sun was cracking out on the horizon, tangerine hues intertwined with tamed shades of red. Samantha took a longer route to the hospital to enjoy the scenery. Chestnuts strands tossed out of the helmet were gliding freely in the wind in an enduring antithesis with her thoughts.

‘You’re going to have to find a replacement for me.’

Unbeknownst to her, Samantha’s hand switched another gear.

‘I cannot make love to you and leave the next day like I am the worst scum to have ever walked this Earth. I am not that guy.’

The motorcycle revved once again.

‘You are irresistible, you know that?’

Samantha reached the hospital faster than she anticipated. She took off her helmet and shook her head to the sides, ruffling her long strands in the process. She locked the bike and put her helmet under her arm, a high-pitched whistle distracting her from her thoughts.

“Nice suit, cat-girl,” Jonathan smirked, locking his Yamaha super sport bike some paces away from Samantha. “We should ride out together next time.”

“I’ll think about it.” She stated simply, taking the lead towards the entrance of the hospital.

“That’s it? No smart reply, no anything? Wow, did I do anything to offend you?”

Samantha threw out a chuckle. “Not necessarily, just didn’t get that much sleep.”

Jonathan caught up with her, entering the hospital at the same time. “Oh? Mind me asking why?”

“Yes.”

“Touche. But I can take a wild guess.”

“Don’t take a wild guess.” Samantha offered a polite smile to the nurse’s station, grabbing the medical documents of a case.

“How’s Romeo doing? Wait, is that a—”

“Yes Jonathan, I’ll take a consult today.”

Jonathan put a hand over his mouth in a mocked attempt to hide his shock. “No fucking way, are you actually coming back?”

“Wait and see!” Samantha chirped, walking away to her office, the bounce in her hair leaving Jonathan with a smile imprinted on his face.

“And I told him he should have bought Rome! If he’d bought Rome, he would’ve won that trade on the airport with you, Jinyoung!”

A hearty laugh filled the room as Mark and Jinyoung entered Mark’s hotel room. The sun was well up in the blue of Jakarta sky, sending its shimmering beams across the universe. A sleepless night passed for the seven boys, fighting one another to the death to the Monopoly title. Their departure was set in a couple of hours to Kuala Lumpur that left them at liberty to let a night’s sleep go by.

“Bambam’s sweet tooth for money, what can I say.” Jinyoung threw his body on the bed, eyes glued to the ceiling to revisit his winning strategy. “Truth be told, he never had a chance to win.”

“You just led him on.” Mark chuckled and walked to the bathroom. “I am going to take a shower to wash off the defeat.”

“You bet.” Jinyoung rolled over on his chest, hand reaching out for the phone in his pocket. His movement on the bed caused Mark���s phone to light up. The water in the bathroom was not running yet.

“Hey, Mark,” Jinyoung shouted for the other. “You have a missed call.”

“Yeah?” Mark’s voice echoed. “Text Joey and let him know I’ll call back.”

There was a delay in Jinyoung’s response. “It wasn’t Joey. It’s Samantha.”

The next thing he heard was the faltering sound of the water running in the shower. Mark stepped under the rapid droplets, closing his eyes. It had been 11 days since they’d last spoken and she only left an unpicked call behind. It was not like Mark was expectant of something else entirely to happen, but he did not know how to feel. Happy that she had reached out? Bitter that she had not tried more?

Mark slapped his hands against the cold tiles to steady himself. As vehemently as he tried to distance himself from Samantha, something tugged him closer. Mark felt like he walked one step ahead, and two steps behind. He kept reciting to himself that it was not real, the feelings he rejected to feel. He couldn’t allow himself to miss her.

Still, I miss you.

The bathroom door opened, and Mark walked into the room with a towel ruffling his damp hair.

“So?” Jinyoung spoke, thumb scrolling lazily on his Instagram. “Are you going to call her back?”

“Probably,” reacted Mark, almost choking on his own spit. Would it be pitiful to acknowledge to the other that, in fact, he was not as nonchalant as he wanted to let on? “when we leave later for the airport.”

“Huh.” Snickered Jinyoung, jolting himself to his feet. “Here I thought I’d get to hear that conversation.” He pursed his lips, tapping at his chin with an index. “Maybe some sort of a clarification for why she had not reached out until now?”

Mark rolled his eyes with a small smile on his lips. It wavered when Jinyoung stopped in the doorframe. “But I guess fuck buddies don’t really get such clarifications, huh?”

Two and a something hours later, the boys were prepared to leave the hotel and embark for the next stop on their tour: New Delhi. The lobby of the hotel was swarming with staff, luggage, and security, preparing for the group’s very public departure. The journey to the airport was as chaotic as ever for the boys, in a joyful and brotherly atmosphere which always eased Mark’s mind and heart. He was always beyond thankful for the company and friendship of all the boys. Each held their own piece of Mark’s.

While waiting for the private transport from the gate to their plane, Mark stepped aside from the group to make the call he owed. It should have been around 4PM in Seoul. He took an anticipative breath in his lungs and tapped on Samantha’s phone number. There shouldn’t have been a singular reason why he felt so expectant.

‘You aren’t making love to me Mark. We are having sex, it is just sex.’

“Do you really think about us like that?” he whispered under his breath, a hand reaching up to cover his face better with the mask.

Mark did not receive his chance to hear the voice of the person whom he wished to hear the answer from because the call got interrupted to voicemail. “Fuck.” The breath in his lungs rushed out, leaving blooming traces of disappointment attached to his veins. All at once, the 10-hour flight became burdensome. Mark switched his phone to airplane mode to join the boys, a wee piece of his heart shattering from the expectations that failed to come alive.

In an empty common room, Samantha was flipping through her patient’s chart, examining and re-scanning what the laboratory results and the obvious common sense were reiterating. Because of an unforeseen and tragic natural complication, her patient would have to choose to lose her pregnancy to save her life.

“How do you tell someone this?” Samantha mumbled to herself, resting her face in the warmth of her palm. She flipped the chart and sighed, closing her eyes for a loose second. She had grown too soft in the big shoes of a surgeon. But it ultimately was what made her a better surgeon.

“Hey,” Leena stopped by, in a rush to reach somewhere else entirely. “Did something happen? I was in a hurry to prepare for surgery, but I couldn’t ignore you here all sappy by yourself.”

“Yeah. This patient I saw today… I have to tell her she has to give up the baby to save her life. This is why I sometimes am at peace with my decision to step back from being a surgeon.”

“And all the other times when you are not at peace?” Leena seated herself by Samantha.

“All the other times are when I miss going in the OR. Like last time I went in with Jonathan. It was the thrill crawling back, until it made my fingers tingle.” Another sigh. “Then I try to heal and come back, and I have to tell a mother to kill her child. Is this fair?”

“No, it’s not. It’s not. But you must remember how many lives you’ve saved and how many you can save, still. Young lives, who don’t even know they are about to live.”

Samantha tilted her head to look at Leena who had a softened look on her face. “Yeah.” She concluded as Leena rose from her seat.

“I gotta go now, Sam. Think about it. We miss having you around the OR. My girl power team lost all that power.” Leena gestured dramatically with her hands. “Maybe it’s a stretch but I think Mark would say the same to you, if he were here.”

“What?” Samantha exhaled. “Why are you thinking about Mark?”

Leena perked in the distance, as she was walking away “Because you won’t!”

And true she wasn’t. Samantha leaned back down in the chair, eyes obsessed with the ceiling of the office. It pained a little, both her ego and her wishes. Reason would say he couldn’t have picked up in the middle of the night, through the thousands of little things he had to attend to in the middle of a world tour, on top of probably the fatigue kicking in. Against reason, Samantha would tell herself anything to keep herself from hurting. Lies were always easier. Truth was always justifiable.

Truth was, Mark was everything she didn’t picture him to be.

Samantha gathered the scattered chart off the desk and mustered her courage to fill the big shoes of the surgeon she knew herself to be. Ever since Mark stumbled in the bar that night, to curl her hair through his fingers in a cheeky endeavor to rescue her from a vulgar stranger, with the smooth smile and the glimmer in his eye, Samantha’s life felt like it finally took a seat, on a vast green plain under the night sky. When pausing for oneself started to matter.

The rest of the day felt differently after Samantha decided to take charge. She went ahead and had the talk with the family whose happy hope vanished from their fingers. Then she offered to take lead of the surgery. The way she used to carry herself was slowly returning, with all the responsibility and the dignity. It was then she realized she did miss saving lives.

“So I guess it’s time to ask again about riding together? On the bikes, of course.” Jonathan laughed at his own joke, which brought a smile to Samantha’s own lips.

“You know what?” Samantha said, turning up the engine and securing herself atop of the seat. “I’m going to say pass for tonight, but let’s do it some time. It’s just been a full day today.”

“So I’ve heard,” Jonathan said, climbing in his seat and undoing his helmet. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

Samantha chuckled. “I know I don’t really take you at your word, most of the time. But I do appreciate you being in my life Jonathan.”

Jonathan threw his head away to veil his content expression. There were times like that one when Samantha wished she knew what was going on through his head. “Someone has to stick around, until prince charming rides back from his tour. Saw he got all naked and whatever up there. Not cool.”

“Mhm. Not cool for someone who asks prince charming how sex with me is.”

Jonathan almost dropped his helmet to the ground.

“Why would you ask him that?”

He raked his hair with his fingers, the previous content expression fading into a longing one. “Because it is part of why I made that bet with you when you were hopelessly drunk and so was I and I hoped we’d wake up and forget.”

It was almost puerile that they both remembered an inebriated bet to sleep with one another when they both had the desirous impulse of the body to do that on the spot. And, somehow, they did not go through with it.

“Jonathan—”

“You should have lied to me and told me you forgot. I would’ve made allowances for how your skin felt against my own. You didn’t even kiss me on the mouth you know?”

Jonathan kicked the jack of his motorcycle. “And trust me, I am actively working on giving up on you but it’s one hell of a job. So yes, that’s why I asked him how sex with you was, to get some closure. And Romeo proved to be almighty with it.” He threw one last look at the girl, and it caused Samantha’s breath to hitch in her throat. Under the alabaster streetlight, Jonathan looked so vulnerable. “Bear with me as I’m giving up on you.”

Keys rumbled against the glassy surface of the living room coffee table. The helmet bounced on the cushions of the sofa in a hasty attempt for Samantha to undress off her riding suit. Samantha plopped into the depth of the couch, skin getting goose bumps from the cold material. It was already the depth of the night when she finally managed to catch a stable breath. The roughness of the day found refuge in her nape, pressing unpleasantly in her muscles. Murphy came running towards her, jumping in an agile motion on the couch beside her. The contact of his fur against her skin eased the pressure in her body. Samantha twirled Murphy’s coat through her fingers, and the dog snuggled closer into her side. He perked up at her, always receptive of her mood.

With the other free hand, Samantha hastily searched for her mobile phone. The silence in her house echoed loudly, in sync with her accelerated thoughts. Jonathan’s confession ripped a band-aid which she did not believe she had. She felt guilty for the impulsive decisions she took a long time before, which still reflected into their present. Almost like a butterfly effect. Had she chosen Jonathan back then, would she have suffered the same heartbreak by his side? Would they have parted, or would they have thrived? Would she have avoided the public humiliation in the hospital?

Would she have met Mark?

The silvery radiance of the moon tiptoed into the living room through the crack of curtains, settling on the black screen of Samantha’s phone. It was repelled by the quick motion to turn the gadget on, an even quicker one to reach Mark’s phone number. A very late observation that he had called her back.

Would she have felt the same need to reach out to any other man, same as she did to Mark? A sliver of a breeze trembled through the thin material of the curtains, disturbing the lull of the house. In that natural equilibrium, the moonlight painted Samantha’s features in an artificial calm. Her heartbeat picked up in her chest.

Samantha drew her breath in sharply when the call connected.

“Mark? Hey, I know it must be late wherever you are, I wasn’t expecting you to pick up. How are you?”

She must have spoken fast, precipitated, in a much too evident surprise and much too little preparation for the feelings raging in her ribcage. All the stupid childish reasons of Mark being and keeping away took the reins.

“I’m sleeping, babe.”

Mark’s voice was low and coarse, at times breathy. Unbeknownst to him, Mark played with her heartstrings, with the ease with which he called her that affectionate name. He could not have meant that.

“Sure, no I’ll let you sleep, I’m sorry I disturbed you—”

“…don’t go. Missed your voice.”

Samantha took her phone away from her ear reflexively to double-check it was indeed Mark whom she was speaking to. On the other line, a faded puffing sound confirmed he was still there, as if he was adjusting his position.

“You there?”

“Yeah, I am, I just… you took me by surprise.”

“Mhm. You, too.”

A gust of wind played with the calescent air in Samantha’s living room. Through Mark’s groggy voice she couldn’t tell if he was upset, sad, or even remotely happy with her for contacting him.

“Just know I’m kinda drunk, so I might say shit.” Mark snickered, which caused Samantha to emit a giggle of her own. She had a palpable reason to blame Mark’s drunkenness for her heart’s quiver. “Drank our minds off with the boys. Middle of the evening.” Another snicker.

He was devastatingly alluring.

Samantha’s voice eased to Mark’s, a lonely index tracing the naked skin of her abdomen. The moon shifted, as if following the movements of the hand in a trance. “You’re too coherent to be drunk. Any special reason for the celebration?”

“Guess we felt like. Don’t know about them but I had a reason.”

Samantha took the bait. “Oh? How so?”

A sharp breath echoed on Mark’s side of the line, closely followed by another sharp exhale. “Promise you won’t get upset with me?”

Samantha’s eyebrows rose with curiosity, yet the heart in her ribcage threatened to stop beating. “I won’t.”

“Okay, I’ll tell you.” But Mark stopped himself once again to prolong the anticipation Samantha prepared herself for. Maybe he would tear the scar open and confess he’d slept with others, that he went ahead and made good of their agreement, that he did not care. Or maybe that he was enough of a good guy to at least let her know he’d touched other women, that he’d heard other women scream his name in the intimacy of his sheets—

“I missed you.”

The sound of thunder reverberated in the infinity of the sky and a glim of lightning flashed in the darkness of the living room to put a halt to Samantha’s life. A strong current awoke goosebumps on Samantha’s skin, akin to Mark’s tender touch whenever he pulled her body to hide into his own.

Mark continued. “But I know you don’t miss me cause heck, you would’ve called a lot more than once, so cheers to me. You’ll say, ‘why are you an asshole cause you didn’t call either’, and you could be right.” A short pause. “I actually could be the asshole.”

What was Samantha supposed to say? How was she supposed to form coherent thoughts in her mind when Mark singlehandedly went and kicked away all rationality had to offer? In the tone of his voice, Samantha felt resentment. A resentment directed at himself for wishing he’d done better.

I should have done better, Mark.

“No, Mark, don’t say that about yourself. You could be anything but an asshole.”

I missed you too, Mark. And I didn’t want to.

“No, it’s fine. Absolutely fine. I’m just sex. You’re just sex. We’re just sex, nothing more, right?”

A sudden downpour started falling over the horizon, in a ghastly chase to envelop the night sky of Seoul. The sound of droplets played in a staccato rhythm, brushing against the tall glass windows of Samantha’s house. The restless curtains danced however the wind dictated, to cast shadows of the moon over her features, now rigid from the amalgam of emotions pirouetting through her being.

If she hadn’t met Mark, would she have wished to grant herself a second chance so easily?

Samantha rose lazily from the couch, leaving Murphy behind to meditate in his calmness. She carried herself to the windows, gripping the handle to open one of them, and ultimately seated herself on the windowpane. She extended one leg to feel the rain. “Do you hear that, Mark?” she spoke ultimately, tears gathering at her eyelids.

“Is that rain?” replied Mark, accompanied by a hissing sound. “It’s pouring in New Delhi, too.”

“It feels so cold on my skin.”

Another thunder trembled in the sky.

“I’m so jealous.”

“Jealous? Jealous on what?”

“All this rain is getting to touch you and I’m not.”

Samantha brought one knee to her chest to lean her cheek against it. If it was raining in New Delhi, it meant that maybe, just maybe, her and Mark could both look at the same sky.

It took a considerable amount of effort for Mark to push himself straight outside of bed. He couldn’t remember at what time the boys got back to the hotel, at what time he fell asleep, and he couldn’t remember why he recognized Samantha’s voice without even knowing it was her who called. With each reply exchanged between them, Mark was driving back to reality, a reality where both him and Samantha were looking at the same sky.

He walked over to the window of his hotel room, peeling it open to fully pick up the song of the rain. There was a tiny table adjacent to the window where he prompted his body, head leaning against the pane, and the free arm toying with the beads rushing down from the sky.

A reality where he was catching feelings for a woman who did not feel the same.

“It feels so cold on my skin too, beautiful.”

Maybe it was because of the same sky they both were watching but it felt like Samantha was smiling. “Why would you be jealous?”

“I should be, shouldn’t I? When something other than me is touching my fuck buddy.”

There was a pause on the other line. Rain was feeling tougher against Mark’s forearm.

“No one has touched me since you left, Mark. Don’t think anyone will.”

It was too good to be true. He did not believe her, could not believe her. Mark retreated his arm and raked his fingers through his hair. The coldness of summer rain made him flinch.

Mark was playing a game he knew he’d already lost.

“Do you think about us? Do you think about me, how I’m touching you?”

“Yeah, I do. I did today.”

Mark’s mind replayed their kiss in the club’s locker room.

Samantha’s mind replayed their kiss in the club’s locker room.

“Do you like the way I’m touching you?”

Mark’s mind replayed their hug in the club’s locker room.

Samantha’s mind replayed their hug in the club’s locker room.

“I do.”

“I guess you still want me to fuck you, then.”

Samantha’s lack of response gave Mark the opportunity to glue his eyes to an outward building which still kept its presence through the water veil. The buzz of the alcohol was still messing with his head, and with his emotions. He shouldn’t had gotten so attached to a game plan, he should had cared enough back in the club when Samantha stated she was not interested. There was just something about her that kept reeling him in, which only amplified with each touch they shared, doubled with each kiss, tripled with each moan she’d mewl, calling out his name.

At the end of the day, the heart wants what it wants. And the heart shuddered at the thought of her moaning any other name than his.

“Hey Sam, I gotta go. I’m supposed to be waking up in 3 hours to rehearse the setting for the concert.”

This time, it was Sam. Not ‘babe’, not ‘beautiful’, just ‘Sam’. Bleak, obscure, a name. Samantha feared a simple name that carried no meaning. It was supposed to carry a meaning.

“Are you frustrated with me, Mark?” she breathed out, the tears rolling down her cheeks at the thought.

“What? No, I’m not. I’m not. Promise.”

“How long will you be gone, still? I hope it’s not that long because I’m naked and I am sitting on the windowpane, hoping that this rain will make me recall how your hands felt against my skin, and it’s not you and I cannot recall how your hands felt against my skin, Mark.”

Clouds wrecked into one another to release a rambunctious roar.

Mark sighed, and it almost broke Samantha’s heart. Then he laughed, and suddenly, the world came alive.

“Okay, let me guide you to remember, hmm?”

“Guide me.”

“If you lay your hand to the side of your neck, cupping it, but not too tight, and a bit far back, you’ll remember it is my favorite spot to hold when we hug.”

In thorough obedience, Samantha did just as Mark instructed her to. She closed her eyes, picturing Mark’s silhouette right by her side.

“Now, if you lower your hand to your side, not too low on the hip, and drum your fingers against the flesh, you’ll remember it is my favorite spot to tickle you.”

The action made Samantha giggle loudly, almost the same as Mark used to. “I am ticklish there, yeah.”

Mark laughed, and Samantha couldn’t see, but he laughed heartily. “Yeah, I know. Now, if you go further and caress a trail from your lower belly all the way to your clit, you’ll remember it is my favorite spot to make you pant. Right before I slide a finger inside you.”

Samantha followed Mark’s voice until her middle finger caressed over her womanhood, a loud whine erupted from the back of her throat. “Oh no, no, don’t even think about doing it. The last part is left for me to do.”

She unexpectedly stopped, Mark’s charm still working strongly. “How did you know I wanted to do that?”

“I know what your body is telling me, angel. It’s just you I need to know more about. I’ll be back in a week and a half, can you hold out for me this long? I can always talk you through it if you think you can’t.”

Samantha scoffed jokingly, draping her hand around herself instead. A week and a half felt to her like an eternity. When Mark had her wrapped around his finger like a marionette, when he knew when to go back to calling her endearingly, when he so easily confessed it was hard on him, as much as it became hard on her, the time stopped dilating as fast. Another bolt of lightning pierced the night sky, casting a porcelain light over her body.

“When you come back to me, Mark, I’ll tell you about the more you want to know.”

Next

[lumiereandcogsworth]

Do you think he was a successful artist rubbing shoulders with the French elite and taking on expensive commissions? Or do you think he was more of a street artist who sold sketches for a few coins? It’s clear in the movie that he is very talented artist and clock maker, but he’s working on pieces well above the disposable income of the villagers.

I’ve always pictured him as a street artist honestly. I think he dreamed of being among the French elite, but life dealt him a difficult hand. His father wasn’t a fan of his artist son. He wanted him to have a more practical career, be more like your older brother, get your head out of the clouds, do something real with your life.

So, I think Maurice was on the streets, because he was never understood in his own home. He couldn’t afford to go to university and study art, and I think tragically, in terms of his talent, he was a diamond in the rough that never got discovered while he was there. He may have been able to make a livable wage for himself, finding lodging and staying with old school mates, but he was definitely the definition of a struggling artist.

Even when he was married to Maria, and when they were expecting their little one, I think money was always a difficult thing. Maria never cared, she just wanted a life with him and to escape her own family (for different reasons) but he always wanted to support them a lot more than he could. But she believed in her artist husband, so he tried very hard to believe in himself.

And yes, in Villeneuve he certainly makes things that should be a lot more expensive than he probably sells them for, a lot of the time. He’s made portraits of most of the families in the village and they pay what they can (some are more generous or stingy than others). But I think that’s why he started taking his music boxes and clocks and art pieces to “the market” — where he was trying to go in the first place that started this whole beloved story. I’m assuming the market is in bigger cities not too far away from Villeneuve. They’re probably seasonal or monthly and he probably lodges for a few days while he tries to sell as much as he can to people who have a bit more money than his villagers.

Of course, we also know that he and Belle sell vegetables from their garden to make a living, as Belle refers to herself as a “farm girl” — I have to think that given the size of their garden they are able to make a few extra bucks with the produce they grow!!

And, I must conclude by saying that he does eventually become famous for his work. When he is the queen’s father, and the king’s father-in-law, he is the Royal Family’s official Portraitist, and i absolutely think he gets hired around the country (and maybe even to other countries like Italy and Belgium) to paint the most royal and elite members of society. It is unfortunate that he needed his familial association to be recognized, but it does not take long at all for his reputation to stand on its own — people sometimes even being surprised to learn that he’s the French queen’s father, having only known about him by his work!

[revcleo]

De-wiggling

Ok hear me out:

global warming messaging has not been very effective, in part because a lot of it is warning of future perils, like people don't care about a future number being a scary number, it's like how you stay awake too late at night and then when you have to get up in the morning you're like "well I should have gone to bed" but you didnt! In the morning you then have a coffee or other caffeine drink hoping that'll help, when you really should have had a good night's sleep instead. That's what a lot of western nations/global north think they are going to do when it comes to climate change, they'll just buy something which sorts out the problem, either fixing it quickly by throwing a lot of money at it (such as the speed at which the covid vaccine and space race was developed) or that it won't affect them much, it'll just mess up the global south and they'll just do a little bit of charity to feel better (see: pakistani floods). What I think is a more concrete and immediate goal for western nations is to de-wiggle the jet stream.

The reason why the USA has been having intense cold, and Europe has been having intense heat, are the same problem. They are both because of a wiggly jet stream.

The jet stream can have a bit of wiggle, for fun, but we need to refreeze the arctic by lowering overall global temperatures, to de-wiggle the jet stream. A strong polar vortex makes the jet stream stronger, like how a powerful fan makes you go wimdy in the face but a gentle fan is more shampoo advert.

De-wiggling the jet stream, or straightening it out if you'd rather say that, is: A. a visible goal. We can see the jet stream on diagrams, pictures of clouds, and we know it's changed from straight to wiggly, and we know it's this which has stopped cooling winds going over Europe, and brought icy arctic winds down over the USA. It is now, and it is happening. It's not something we'll find when we wake up in the morning, it's something happening before we go to bed.

B. something which has been primarily effecting the richest countries. Europe and China have both experienced record breaking heatwaves over the summer, and the USA is experiencing record breaking cold snaps over this winter. These countries are responsible for the vast amounts of emmissions, and have the most power to change. These countries can often be selfish as well, and knowing that things are effecting them at the moment can be initiative to change now, rather than wait until it's a bigger problem. C. something we (as a species) know how to fix, we can cool down the arctic by cooling global temperatures. This is the hardest part ofc but the important thing is we can't let people handwave this by saying "well it's too late, it's too hard, we can't do it"

it's hard work, and is basically the same call of "reduce emissions" which people have been calling for, but there have been more and more people willing to give up a lot of treats and nicknacks to create a fairer and healthier world It's not an individual issue in this way, it's all the connected things like: People don't get paid enough -> they can't afford high quality things -> the cheap things they buy break quickly -> they have to keep buying cheap things -> the factories want to make lots of cheap disposable things because people keep buying them but they have to be made even cheaper -> the people who make the cheap things get paid poorly and the factories save money on dangerous plastics which poison the environment and cheap coal power which pollutes it People don't have much time and are stressed and need cheap and fast energy -> multinationals make cheap meat/soy -> monocultures and industrial animal ag are needed for cheap food -> cheap land can be found by destroying the rainforest because cartels can kill the indigenous people

Individual and small scale responses to the risks of a wiggled jet stream are mitigation of damage. Learning how to fix your clothes, planting a local garden, and petitioning your city for more bike lanes are all good and should be encouaged, but they are mitigation.

To fix the problem requires governments to do things such as mass retrofitting of properties, large scale conversion to low carbon energy sources, polluter-pays initiatives on agriculture, mass public transport initiatives, agricultural subsidy change, subsidised/nationalised high quality clothes and appliances etc. And nothing can be done without doing it for everyone, so marginalised people need to be at the forefront. This is the part which will make a lot of people angry, so they will try to distract people with "we can't afford it", "what about the jobs", "It will take too long" etc. the answers to those are "we can't afford to keep the jet stream like this" , "this will involve many jobs", "we should have started 10 years ago, the next best time is now"

[the-insomniac-emporium]

I love your writing.

if it's not too much trouble may i make a request? I'm thinking the Dimitrescu women meeting and/or courting a fellow immortal.

the circumstances of the immortal's powers and possession of immorality are entirely up to you. I just like the idea of them meeting someone they could literally spend forever with...because they deserve it ❤

I wasn't sure if you wanted a story or headcanons? I went with HCs, here, but if you wanted more of a drabble or whatever just lemme know and I'll write something like that.

Also, I got excited and carried away so this has the whole Dimitrescu family, plus shorter ones for both Mother Miranda and Donna. Admittedly Alcina's is also a little on the shorter side? I tried to write everything that came to mind, but I am kinda tired right now, sorry. Might reblog this and add some more later.

(Under read-more for length)

Cassandra:

Tries (and fails) to hide her excitement. Mortality is one of the bigger things that has made her keep her distance to others, at least in the past. Every Maiden she’s ever been the slightest bit smitten with, up until this point, has been incredibly fragile. Seeing as she’s not exactly the softest person, one can easily imagine why that would be a turn off for her. But now that’s no longer a problem!

On the other had… having an immortal partner gives Cassandra pause. Why? Because what if they breakup? Normally, she can just, ahem, “dispose” of any exes (regardless of how much it hurts) so she doesn’t have to see them/deal with them anymore. If that’s not an option, she’ll definitely take longer than usual to do anything about her feelings. She wants to be sure, 100%, before she gets in over her head. Chances are she won’t hold back for as long as she wants though.

Likely to have a loud, messy confession. She’ll have been avoiding you for a few days, always ducking out of whatever rooms you enter, leaving you both hurt and confused. After enlisting the help of her sisters, you’ll be able to corner her outside. She’ll tell you, under no uncertain circumstances, to leave her alone. But you’ll refuse, demanding an explanation.

“I thought we had something. I thought you cared,” you’ll snap, eyes watering. “If that’s changed… if I was wrong, just tell me. I’ll leave and I’ll never come back.” Cue thunder and raining (because tropes) and Cassandra dramatically pulling you into a kiss, holding you so tightly you think you might bruise. Then she’s demanding that you stay, refusing to apologize but making it clear just how much she does care.

Being immortal, you’re not as defenseless as some of Cassandra’s past interests. Naturally, she doesn’t get quite as protective as she normally would. She’ll still have your back no matter what, ready to fight by your side against any foe, and will probably consider doing so a “fun bonding activity”. Oh, some lycans are encroaching on Dimitrescu territory? Time to go destroy them, as a power couple!

Despite having all the time in the world, Cassandra won’t change much of her actual courting behavior, nor the rate at which things advance. She’s still gonna get handsy fairly early on, still gonna “rah!” at you in the hallways, and still going to struggle with her jealousy.

Immortality Compatibility: I can see Cassandra going for another vampire (or vampire adjacent) creature, or someone demonic. She likes her lovers a bit rough, with some nice bite to their personalities. If you’ve got sharp teeth, or claws, or glowing eyes? Oh boy, she’s gonna be making heart eyes at you all the time.

Bela:

If your immortality isn’t immediately obvious, Bela is over the moon with joy when she finds out. Her eyes will go wide for a moment, before she tries to seem calm (so as to not freak you out), but her heart is pounding. This is what she’s been hoping for. As much as Mother Miranda has done for her family, there’s no guarantee that she’d be willing to give more. Even if Miranda granted Bela’s lover her “gift”, there was no telling what the results would be, or if the lover would survive. Now that there’s no need for such a transformation, it’s far easier for Bela to imagine herself in love (and eventually be in love).

Slow-burn romance over a decade or longer, oops. Doesn’t even necessarily mean to take things so slowly, just doesn’t feel a need to rush things, preferring that they develop organically. With both of you having unlimited time, you’re both used to working on a very large timescale. Maidens watching the two of you probably place bets on how long it’ll take you to hold hands for the first time. Everyone knows it’s coming, but no matter how much Cassandra and Daniela complain, Bela refuses to jump into things. By the time the two of you are officially together, you’re probably madly in love with each other.

More protective than Cassandra, if only because she knows just how rare you are. Immortal or not, you likely still have a weakness, and Bela will do everything in her power to make sure no one else knows what it is. If applicable, she will also ensure she has a countermeasure readily available. For example: If you were weak to fire, she’d make sure that the castle keeps extinguishers handy, just in case. Though they should probably already do that. Not that the Dimitrescu family cares much for OSHA compliance.

Somehow grows more in love with you with every passing year, and makes sure that you know this. Whether you’ve been together for one year or one century (because in this house we ignore canon), she’s always performing little acts of love, giving constant reminders of how strongly she feels. Gifts, special dates, book recommendations, etc.

Immortality Compatibility: Bela seems like the type to go for someone with a calming presence, and perhaps somewhat of a contrast to herself. I can picture her with someone somewhat angelic, or druidic, someone very in tune with nature. She’d love to feed deer with you and relax in the forest! Or lay against a tree by your side, listening to you talk about various microorganisms for hours at a time.

Daniela:

Practically tackles you when she finds out/connects the dots. This is just like one of her romance novels, where a lonely (attractive as fuck) immortal spends years in isolation before finally meeting the love of their life, who they get to spend the rest of eternity with. Absolutely ecstatic about the whole situation. Won’t stop kissing you and pulling you close, rambling about how great it’s gonna be to spend your lives together. Honestly? Kind of overwhelming. You might have to remind her a few times that you don’t have to rush into things, considering you have all the time in the world.

Introduces you to people as her “super cool/rad immortal life partner”. Genuinely cannot bring herself to not brag about you. If her sisters haven’t found someone like you yet, you can bet that Daniela will tease them about it all the time (much to their annoyance). If Momma Alcina doesn’t, though? Dani will keep her thoughts to herself, thank you very much (being grounded at her age does not impress the s/o).

Tries not to show it, but she’s actually very nervous. You’re immortal! You’ve probably seen a lot of shit (she certainly has)! Worries about keeping you interested in her, though she would never admit it. This tends to lead to her performing ridiculous acts to showcase her affection, regardless of the cost or, like, whether or not you’d even enjoy whatever she has planned. In order to counter her anxiety, you’ll want to reassure her whenever you can, and give her plenty of “I love you”s.

Strikes a decent balance between Cassandra’s nonchalant attitude and Bela’s protectiveness. Will defend you if you need it, playing up the romantic aspect, but also entirely willing to hide behind you in a scary situation.

Immortality Compatibility: Having probably read Twilight… Dani would date a werewolf, as long as they weren’t the smelly kind. Also interested in a sort of “magical”/elemental type, especially if their powers are influenced by emotions. In other words, if someone flirts with her in front of you, and your response is to subconsciously light your hands/the other person on fire? She thinks that’s hot, pun intended.

Alcina:

“Oh? Interesting,” she’d say, smiling softly (and trying to ignore the heat rushing to her face). Similarly to Cassandra, she’d try to play it off, not wanting to seem too excited. And, well, she’s not as excited as any of her daughters are. After all, she’s had more time than them to “get used” to the idea of outliving any potential romantic interests. So, she’s not exactly desperate for a relationship, even with someone she could spend an eternity with.

That being said, if she is romantically interested in them, she’s very relieved. Outliving a loved one can be incredibly traumatizing (fuck you c*pcom, you know what you did), and knowing that you’re safe (or at least safer than most) brings her no small amount of comfort.

Also, just glad to have another person close to her age around. Her daughters are somewhat stuck as young adults, and I imagine Alcina would want someone who gained immortality a little later in life, such as herself, as opposed to, ya know, reminding her of her children. That probably goes without saying. Hopefully.

More so than her daughters, Alcina would change her level of protectiveness depending on her s/o’s power level. If you’re a shapeshifter who can also turn into a big ass dragon? Then she’s not going to coddle you. If you’re immortal but still vulnerable, then she’s going to do her best to keep you safe, even going so far as to enlist the assistance of her daughters. “If you see a single Maiden growing mistletoe, or bringing some in from the village, let me know immediately,” or something like that, depending on your weakness.

Immortality Compatibility: Definitely would want someone in a situation similar to herself, having once been truly human, only to be “elevated” by something. Bonus points if you’re another disciple of Miranda, double bonus points if Miranda specifically “made” you to be Alcina’s boo/honey/darling/dear.

Bonus! Mother Miranda:

Oh god finally someone who won’t leave her (can’t leave her). No one can take you away from her, and that’s a relief that she’s been craving for over a century. Even if romance isn’t high on her priority list, she welcomes it with open arms, glad to have someone by her side through all of life’s chaos.

Admittedly slow to trust at first, probably just using you as a tool at first. But prove yourself enough, show that your devotion is more than just misdirected self-interest, and she’ll start to warm up to you. Forming a real relationship would likely take a couple decades, similar to with Bela. Once you are together, however, the two of you are inseparable in all matters.

You’d be her #1 follower, most trusted adviser, and the only person allowed to understand 100% of her thoughts and motives. While Miranda wouldn’t allow you to be seen as the same level as her (sorry), you’d still be a legend among the villagers. To them, you’re Mother Miranda’s champion, the epitome of a devoted follower that they all aspire to emulate. Not that they know the two of you are a couple, though.

Immortality Compatibility: No gimmicks, no cheap tricks, she wants (and respects) a fellow scientist, someone who clawed their way through adversity and forged themselves into something indestructible. Double the interest if you did so for a similar cause to her own, as she would appreciate your ability to relate to her suffering.

Bonus! Donna:

Someone to play with! FOREVER! No more losing people she cares about, no more accidentally breaking people, no more people scrambling to leave. Now that she has you, she can finally spend some quality time with another (living?) person. Honestly her dolls (or at least Angie) are just as excited as she is. Regardless of her relations with the other three Lords, Donna much prefers the company of a lover.

For real though she’s shy as hell and you might not even realize who’s pulling the strings until you’ve been in her house for over a year. She’d probably use her powers to trap you inside, at least at first, though they’d be nice hallucinations. You’d have to treat the dolls nicely, especially Angie, before she’d let you interact with her.

Eventually you’d be allowed to leave, and you’d be given a key to return whenever you wanted to. Assuming that you do, in fact, come back, the two of you would have a very, very slow romance, if only because of Donna’s anxiety. Hand holding makes both of your faces turn beet red, seriously.

Immortality Compatibility: *chanting* GHOST GIRLFRIEND GHOST GIRLFRIEND POLTERGEIST PARTNER POLTERGEIST PARTNER WOOHOO! Something with a flexible, only-sometimes-tangible form, who absolutely could have left at any time but didn’t because they wanted to stay.

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Hey I love your blog! If it isn’t too much trouble, could you do one of the companions reacting to Sole getting an unsolicited dick pic?

FO4 Companions React to Sole Receiving an Unsolicited Dick Pic

So I know the ask said one of the companions, but I just did 'em all cuz I got carried away (as I always seem to). This was definitely an interesting one to think about, and suuuuper fun to write. Thanks for the ask!

I ended up doing a little scenario at the top that'll apply to all of the reactions, and just kind of give context for the fateful event to take place (since phones/the internet aren't really a canon element in FO, I put this scenario together instead.)

Given the nature of this ask, there's a just bit of NSFW under the cut!

Sole had woken up like any other day. Heading down the stairs of their Diamond City home to make breakfast, trying to be quiet in order to keep from disturbing their companion in the other room. However, as they passed their front door, they noticed something peeking out of the mail slot.

The paper isn't meant to come out until tomorrow...

Curious, Sole reached for the little white square of photo paper, and noticed some writing in the corner. There was an address and the words, "if you like what you see, meet me here tonight," accompanied by a little arrow pointing to flip the photo over. Their intrigue got the better of them, and Sole did as the writing suggested, turning it over for a brief second before immediately regretting it. They recoiled at the phallic image, their surprise evident in the small yelp they uttered in response to the sight before them.

They heard their companion stir from the other room, and then their footsteps sounded from behind as they approached questioningly.

"What have you got there?" They asked.

"Oh, it's nothing," Sole said, turning to face them, "just some mail, is all." Sole's words dripped with distaste, and yet... they felt an overwhelming need to share their unsightly discovery with the person in front of them.

"Wanna see?" They asked, mercilessly turning the picture so their companion could clearly make out the offensive image.

Cait:

*scoffs*

"What, they think that's somethin' te brag about? The damn thing's so wee, I almost couldn't make it out." She'd say with a smile, offering up her hand so she could take the picture and tear it in half. Cait effectively would make the decision for her companion in regards to the comment on the back of the photo. She knows this type of man, and she'd be sure that Sole wouldn't be meeting the asshole anywhere tonight. However, should she be able to sneak away while Sole is sleeping... Cait might just pay a visit to the specified location, where she'd surely give that asshole a piece of her mind, and at least one taste of her fist.

Curie:

Her eyebrows would furrow, and the synth would cock her head to the side in her confusion. Being locked away in a vault with three men for so many years, acting as their doctor, meant she had seen her fair share of the male sex organ. But now, Curie was confused, why did this man feel the need to send Sole a photograph of his penis? Was there something wrong with it? Did he want them to examine it? Sole was not a doctor...

"Why 'ave you received zhis, madame/monsieur? What does zhis man want from you?"

Once Sole explained, Curie would be quite upset by the concept.

"But... you did not ask for zhis, did not want it, and yet, he sent it anyway. Why would you want to meet someone like zhat? It seems very rude to me." She's still confused about it, and may ask a few more questions. Has this happened to Sole before? Does it happen often? Does anyone actually like to see such things when they are unprompted like this? If not, then why do these men continue to do it?

The scientist just wants answers.

Danse:

The soldier would physically recoil at the sight of the photograph, eyebrows raised high as he took in the image, before jerking his head and eyes away from Sole and the picture altogether.

"That-- that is highly inappropriate and an overwhelmingly vile display." He would say once he recovered from his initial shock, still refusing to look back towards Sole, "I suggest you dispose of that filth immediately. Why anyone would reveal themselves in such an unceremonious fashion is beyond me. You would do well to forget such graphic imagery. I know that I will certainly try."

He wouldn't even entertain the idea that Sole would go through with meeting the man behind the picture, but in the off chance that they decided to tell him they wanted to, Danse would spend the remainder of the day convincing them otherwise. He would almost be tempted to go to the location himself in order to lecture the man for his crude and inexcusable behavior, and blatant disrespect to his companion, but in the end, he decides that the man is not worth his time.

Deacon:

Ginger eyebrows would raise slightly over the frames of the glasses for the briefest of moments before he recovered his cool demeanor.

"Ah shoot, did the postman just put it right back into the mail slot? Didn't mean for you to see that, my bad. Here, I'll just deliver it myself."

The sarcasm was evident in his voice as he strode forward and plucked the photo from Sole's hand, examining it for just a moment, and grimacing a bit at the sight.

"Man, Dr. Rich Cockwood does not photograph well. I swear, it's bigger in person." He'd wink at them before glancing down at the picture again, scrutinizing blue eyes pausing to peruse the words on the back as he folded the paper up to put into his pocket. He'd quickly change the subject, trying to keep Sole's mind off the whole thing as he devised a way to sneak out that night and get some intel on the asshole who decided it was a wise idea to put Sole in this position.

Hancock:

*Squints*

"Oh shit. Looks like you've got an admirer there, Sole. " In his sleepy state, it took Hancock a minute to figure out what he was even looking at. Upon realizing that it was, in fact, what he thought it had been, he takes the picture from Sole's grasp and flips it around to glance at the back.

"Look at that, you've even got a date tonight. Must be somewhere romantic, I can tell this guy's old school." He nodded, flipping the photo over to glance once again at the offensive imagery on the front. "Yeah, real traditional, I'd say. Hmm... Mind if I tag along? Could be fun." There was a certain sort of glint in the ghoul's eye that made Sole's spine tingle.

Perhaps neither of us should go... Sole thought, noticing how Hancock's other hand toyed absentmindedly with his combat knife as he furrowed his brows at the photo one last time, before shoving the paper into the pocket of his coat. There was a certain sort of intent behind his actions that made Sole re-think even showing him the image in the first place. Hancock had killed people over less; that, Sole knew for sure.

MacCready:

"Ahh! What the heck are you doing?! I don't need to see that!" He'd squeeze his eyes shut just as soon as he was able to make out the photo, shoving his hands in front of him as though they would be able to push the image out of his mind.

"It's too early for this, what the heck is that guy's problem?" MacCready shuddered as he pulled his hands slowly from where they covered his eyes, glancing quickly at Sole before lowering them down completely, a relieved expression on his face as realized the picture was no longer in his line of sight. Noting his dramatic reaction, Sole considered toying with the mercenary a bit. They asked him what was wrong with the image, stating that perhaps they would pay this man a visit tonight. It had been so long since they had been out on a date, might as well go for it, right?

MacCready's eyes would simultaneously furrow, and widen at their words as he stuttered, finally finding his voice after a moment of shocked, choked silence.

"What?!" He exclaimed, "You're not seriously thinking of going, are you? That guy seems like such an ass-- Well, he just-- I mean..." He took a breath, and Sole had to bite their lip to hold back their grin. "Look, not that it's really any of my business or anything, but... don't you think you could do better than that guy? Like... a lot better?"

Sole couldn't hold back their grin any longer, but MacCready wouldn't meet their gaze. Instead he looked down at the floor, rubbing at the back of his neck with one hand, a nearly unnoticeable blush spreading over his cheeks.

"That guy just seems like a real jerk, and you? Well... Yeah, you deserve better than that, I think." He finished rather awkwardly, finally looking up to meet Sole's gaze before returning their coy smile.

Nick:

The synth would a have a brief moment of raised eyebrows as he took in the details of the photograph, and then the inevitable scowl of disappointment would spread across his face.

"You know, you'd think this guy would understand that no one in their right mind wants to see that particular... angle. You don't think that's his good side, do ya?" Sole would smile a bit at that, and as the synth turned to walk away from the offensive image, they told him about the writing on the back.

"Hey now, wait a minute. You're not thinking of paying this guy a visit, are ya? If so, that's a pretty poor decision on your part, I think."

Sole would shake their head, telling Nick not to worry as he fixed his inquiring yellow gaze on them. He nodded in response, seeming satisfied by their answer. In the next moment, a thought seemed to claim his attention.

"Hmm... I think I might just know the perp, actually. Ellie's got a few reports back at the office mentioning some similar events. Guess it's possibly one of the guards on night duty who goes around with these to see if he gets any takers."

Sole almost spoke up, but as they opened their mouth, Nick's words seemed to take their idea straight from their head. "On second thought..." He said, "You got any plans for this evening?"

Piper:

"Ahh! Blue! Why would you show me that!?" She'd physically cover her eyes with her hands, taking a few steps back and away from the picture for good measure.

"Look, I don't care what you do with it," she'd tell them, "just don't let me see it again!"

Sole would thankfully oblige, but before disposing of the image, they showed Piper the writing on the back. At the sight of the man's suggestion, Piper snatched the photo from Sole's hand, glaring at it furiously.

"Ohhhh no he doesn't. If he's sent crap like this to anybody else, I'm going to make sure no one falls for this."

And Piper kept her word, as the next morning's addition of Publik Occurrences contained a small piece written on exactly this subject, titled: To the Asshole who sent the Sad Little Picture to a Disgusted Citizen; No One Wants to See That! Sincerely, Everyone who has.

Preston:

"O-- oh! Um, that's-- okay. That's just wrong. Do you want me to get rid of it for you?"

Preston's face would wrinkle up in his clear distaste before bringing a a hand up to shield his eyes. When Sole had lowered the picture, he removed his hand, and looked them in the eye, refusing to pay the photo any more attention, but extending his hand out to take it from them so he could dispose of it properly.

"Are you... okay? I can't believe how rude some people are. Who would want to see that?" He'd flash a sympathetic smile at them, as he folded up the photo and prepared to throw it away. He didn't read the back himself, but if they told him about the words that were written there, he wouldn't even entertain the idea of Sole going, just shaking his head in disappointment at the man's poor and rude way of trying in vain to woo his General.

"Some people... The nerve. If you don't mind me saying, General, you deserve much better than that anyway."

X6-88:

His eyes would be locked to Sole's, but as they presented the photo to him, his gaze would fall to the image, and an ever so slight furrowing of his brows would take place above his silver eyes. A brief moment would pass, and X6's gaze would be back on his companion's face.

"Ma'am/ sir, why did you feel the need to show me this?" He's also quite confused, this was not a common occurrence in the Institute, and once Sole gave him an explanation, his expression would remain blank. For the most part, anyway. A small huff of laughter would escape him, prompting Sole to be the one giving him the questioning look now.

"If this filthy wastelander believes he can disrespect the future director of the Institute without facing consequences, he is sorely mistaken." He said, his gaze unbroken as he made Sole this promise, "Don't worry, I will take care of this filth at the specified meeting time and location. You will not hear from him again."

He doesn't necessarily intend to kill the man for his unseemly behavior; X6 is a courser after all, and he knew this man would be scared shitless if X6 were to so much as look at him the wrong way, but should the man make any... poor decisions in response to the courser's confrontation, well... certainly X6 can't be held responsible for the behavior, or the fate, of a mere stranger now, could he? Especially after his heinous actions.

[dream-a-little-bigger-darling000]

You'll Fit So Nicely You'll Keep Me Intact

Author's Note: Hello Hello! Not my GIF, please don't think it is, but it is my fic! I asked a few days ago if I should do Bane or touch-starved Tommy, and it was pretty clear I should do my sweet summer child Tommy boy. I just really think this big tough fighter needs to take a break and be held every once in awhile. And you can't tell me this man wouldn't have the sweetest moans. Fight me on it you can't. Please Please PLEASE reblog, like, or comment on this if you liked it. I live my day to day life craving validation.

If you absolutely hated it, also let me know! I admit I'm not the best at writing, and I'm willing to learn so I can feed my Tommy Conlon addiction. Ok, that's all, be fed!

2400+ words?! C'mon, that's gotta be enough to make you proud.

The whole fiasco was genuinely an accident.

The two of you, in his small cramped apartment, helping each other make dinner, because you couldn't remember whose turn it was, walking around each other like you had been doing it for years, because you had been.

You had been by Tommy for as long as you can remember, through those years where puberty slammed in the door and decked you directly in the throat (and other places), through the time where his family had slowly fallen apart, and into the years where he had joined the US Marine Corps.

Those years had been hell. At least when he moved away you were still able to text him annoying day-to-day updates and talk in the quiet nights when no one was awake to hear you admit how much you missed each other. But when he joined the Marines, you heard even less from your Tommy, and the ache you felt for him only grew.

When he came back, he had came back for good, immediately seeking you out with the promise of your old relationship back. And things went back to normal, slotted into place perfectly.

Except the insane amount of pining that you went through every waking hour you saw his stupidly attractive face.

But you weren't going to think about that. There was spaghetti to be made.

"Those are done." Tommy nodded his head to the noodles as he made the salad. You sneered to yourself, still pissed that he got the easy part.

"No, they're not, look, that one's still hard-"

"That's what she said."

"It's still undercooked you jerk. Can you please let me cook in peace? You're over there, doing the bare minimum, you ass."

"Hey, if this isn't tossed right, the whole thing is ruined. And those noodles are definitely done. We can get them in the sauce before the garlic bread is done so it'll cool down a bit. Look." All the sudden Tommy was crowded up behind you. Your breath did something funny. Probably the steam from the boiling water. Because, you know, it's so hard to breathe around.

Tommy took the spoon you were using to stir and managed to scoop up a single noodle. He then carefully picked it up and threw it on the cabinet. It stuck, but looked like it would fall via a strong sneeze.

"See? Done." You looked behind you to stare up at the infuriating man. He smiled and tilted his head. You had the sudden urge to hit him. With your mouth. Damn it.

He turned around, not giving you a chance to argue with him. That was his first mistake. As a MMA fighter, the idiot should know never to turn your back on the enemy.

You scooped up another noodle with your spoon. You waited until he was truly busy with cutting the tomatoes up for the salad.

You aimed for his head. It wrapped around the back of his neck with a soft splat. He startled for a moment, and then set the knife down and stared forward, still not turning around to look at you.

"You know what, now it's done. Now it's stickin'." You were struggling to hold it together, desperately trying not to laugh as you turned off the stovetop and set the pan aside.

You felt strong arms envelop you from behind, and you let out a loud laugh as you felt your feet leave the floor. Tommy, spinning you around before setting you on the counter. You've really put yourself it a bad position.

Well, if you're being honest, probably the best damn position you've ever been in.

Except that the bastard started tickling you. More laughter spilled out of you, uncontrollable at this point.

"Tommy!" You were out of breath from the constant attack. What happened to never turn your back on the enemy? "Tommy, what are we in-" More laughter as his joined yours. You two were so close you could feel his shoulder dip every time he rumbled a laugh. "what are we in 6th grade now- Tommy!"

You could feel his laughter huff by your ear, and you knew you had to resort to dirty tactics. If he wanted to play by middle school standards, then you had no choice but to stoop down to his level.

Tommy was very distracted trying to murder you by laughter alone, and he looked like he was having the time of his life. He never even realized your hands were so close to his head. He was in the middle of another fit of giggles when he felt your nimble hands glide through his hair. He had half a second to understand what you were planning, and he was just about to pull away, to get as far from you as possible before-

You gave a solid pull to his hair. You felt satisfaction shoot through your body as his laugh choked off, his body going rigid underneath your fingers. His breath stuttered and his hands instantly fell from your sides to grasp the edge of the counter.

You didn't quite understand what was going on at first, the only thing on your mind being that you'd won the battle. You couldn't help the smug smile from sliding across your expression, or the snarky little giggle that bubbled it's way out.

"What's wrong, Tommy? Did someone school you at your own game, hmm? Maybe next time you'll think before you-"

"Could you please let go?" Tommy sound winded, like he'd just fought a few rounds with someone much bigger than him. It made you pause, and then frown.

Your fingers loosened from his hair, but you didn't lower your arm just yet. You couldn't fathom why Tommy was acting this way, when he instigated the rough-housing. And you knew for damn sure you hadn't hurt him. You had seen the idiot stub his toe on his coffee table before, and the only reaction out of the fighter was a pause, a look up to the ceiling, and one long, drawn out sigh.

So even though he sounded like he was trying to fight for his life, you know it absolutely wasn't because you had hurt him in anyway. Tommy could break you five times over.

You looked down at his hands. Not only was he grasping the edge of the counter top, but his knuckles were white, like he was anchoring himself. You glanced to his face. His eyes were squeezed shut, his lips pressed tightly together, and his eyebrows were furrowed in deep concentration. Was he- was that a blush? His body was still pulled tight.

Experimentally, you lightly scraped your nails along his scalp.

If Tommy were to ever hear you call the sound that came from him a whimper, he'd probably swiftly and effectively dispose of your body. But it was a fucking whimper.

His eyes snapped open wide and met yours. You saw his utter mortification. You would say you felt guilty, but having your long time crush whimper while slotted between your thighs as you sat a top a kitchen counter really did things for you.

You mentally reprimanded yourself for letting your mind fall into the gutter as your friend so obviously had a small break down.

Before you could get a word out, to try talk him down from whatever thoughts were swirling in that pretty head of his, Tommy was out of kitchen. Ah, so he's chosen drama today? Coming from a man who would rather fight his own brother than talk, you can't really find it in yourself to be surprised.

"Tom." You dropped down from the counter, heading toward the living room, which was the only way he could've gone. As you rounded the corner, you saw him pacing the length of the room, his hands interlaced behind his head, elbows out, eyes wild.

"Tommy." You smoothed out your voice, pictured yourself trying to calm down a particularly flighty horse. You know, if the horse were the love of your life and you were desperately trying to make things less weird between you two before the already delicate friendship collapsed.

At your gentle prod he stopped. He let his hands fall down to his sides. He huffed once. Crossed his arms, made a face, and then dropped them. His fists curled up into balls and he closed his eyes. He opened one and looked toward you.

"You didn't hear that."

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your own arms to your chest.

He pointed to the kitchen. "That didn't happen."

Because you love your best friend very much, you didn't roll your eyes.

"Tommy. Calm down. Take a deep breath." He did not take a deep breath. You did for him. Then another one for you. You moved toward the couch, and the way he suddenly looked like he was about to sprint out the door didn't escape you. You held your hands up placatingly. Easy, boy.

You sat down, leaving enough room for him to sit beside you. He looked at you wearily. You gave him a pointed look, one that said this is something to be discussed, and there's no way you're getting out of it, and gently patted the space for him.

He looked like he'd rather do anything else. He eventually made his way to the spot and plunked down, but as close to the arm of the couch as possible.

You gave him a sweet smile. He looked away, but not before you caught the blush. You decided to let him speak first.

It was quiet for awhile. Your thoughts went to the noodles still sitting on the counter, probably cooling in the water making a film. He cleared his throat.

"I don't. Not a ton of people touch me." He stared dutifully in front of him. You stayed silent, afraid of scaring him into silence again. He shifted uncomfortably, letting out a growl of frustration. "I mean people touch me. I just meant. It's not. It's," He looked like each word was slowly strangling him, "Never that intimate. I guess. And never anyone like you."

You're eyebrows shot up. His head jerked toward you.

"Not like that, I mean like someone so pretty." You choked a little. He visibly flinched. "Ok. I think that's enough for tonight. I think I've made plenty an ass of myself for one God forsaken night." He made to move, but your hand covered his before you really thought about it. He immediately stopped, staring at your hand on top of his.

"Tommy, it's ok." He gave you a dubious look. "No, really. Lots of people don't know how to deal with touch when it's not normal for them-"

"I'm fine, I touch people all the time, it doesn't matter it's ridiculous-"

"Tommy." He stopped. You lifted both hands to slowly cradle his face. His eyes were panicky. He looked like he was fighting every instinct inside him. "Listen to me, love." His eyes widened. "You don't have to explain anything. I need you to know it's ok to freak out a little. It's ok for this to be new." You bit your lip. "It's ok if it feels good."

A small sound came from the fighter. His eyes slipped closed. It suddenly hit you. You sucked in a sharp breath, and you started to gently stroking his face to his neck.

"Oh Tommy. You spend all that time fighting in the ring, so much time dominating. You barely let anyone touch you before you knock them away." His dad was probably never there to offer him any type of physical love, and his mom was too distanced from anyone to truly give what Tommy craved. By that time, he had pushed his brother away, and you had never really noticed him to be very active in the dating area.

You could feel his control slipping, could feel him slowly letting you hold his head up while he explored the sensation of someone just feeling him. When he spoke, his speech was slightly slurred.

"Was always jus' scared."

"I know Tommy."

"Didn' want you t' leave."

"And why would I do something stupid like that."

There was a second of silence, but Tommy was too far in to go back now.

"Cuz' I only wanted you to touch. Only ever you." Your heart stopped. His eyes slowly opened, meeting yours. His gaze snapped to your lips, back up to your eyes. All it took was for your eyes to snap to his lush mouth, and he was surging to meet you.

You felt like you were melting, melding into him. His lips were sliding against yours, his hands suddenly huge, thumbs cupping your face while his hands rested on the sides of your neck. He kissed like you see him fight. The urgency and the power and the emotion. You ached all over.

You could hardly remember your name when you finally separated, heaving lungfuls of air. Maybe all that oxygen deprivation had really done something to your brain, because you might be having a stroke. It almost smelled like something was burning. Tommy's face did something funny and he sniffed the air.

Oh. OH. The garlic bread.

Both of you made a mad dash for the kitchen, Tommy arriving first and throwing the oven door open, grabbing whatever cloth he could find to take out the charred bread as you used a dishrag to flap away any smoke that spilled out.

Once he made sure his apartment wasn't going to burn down or that the ambulance wan't going to be making a surprise visit, he slumped against the counter, breathing heavily. You put your hands on your hips.

A few second went by, both of you trying to catch your breath. Tommy looked up at you. You met his eye.

You both melted into peeling laughter, trying to stay upright. It seemed like every time you two would get your shit together, you'd fall right back into cackles.

He finally reigned in the worst of the laughter, and slowly made his way to where you were standing. Your own laughs died down.

"Are we good?" you ask him gently. He nods his head, with his sweet smile.

"We're good" he replies gently. He gets this determined look on his face, and steps real close to you. He doesn't do anything else for awhile, instead looking to you, asking with questioning eyes.

You give him an encouraging smile. He smiles right back at you, and for the second time tonight, strong arms envelop you.

[thewritetofreespeech]

I LOVE ur blog SO MUCH!!!

Thanku fr Writing amazing hcs!! Keep it up!!!

If you don't mind...

(Kuroko no baske)

Thanku so much!! Lots of love xoxo

(reader insert may not be necessary!😉)

Awwww!! Thank you!! I’m glad you enjoy and appreciate them ( ´ω` ). Went a little off the rails with this as I was feeling inspired and did full scenarios. I hope that’s ok!

GOM Boys + Sending their kids to school (prompt)

Akashi

“Why don’t you want to go to school?” Akashi asked, holding his son’s hand, as they arrived at the building.

His son, looking positively adorable in his little blazer & tie, looked up at him with big, bright, golden eyes before looking back down. “I don’t want to go.” He repeated quietly. “It’s scary.”

“Scary? How is it scary?” Akashi asked. “You were fine when we did the tour the other day. It’s just like that.”

“But you won’t be with me Papa.” He replied in a soft voice. Worrying his bottom lip and eyes starting to get very wet. “I’ll be all alone.”

Akashi sighed as his son began to sniffle and knelt down in front of him. “Stop crying. Akashi men don’t cry over things like this.” He pulled out his handkerchief to clean the few tears that had fallen. His son giving a small hiccup as he stopped crying. Then Akashi smiled at him. “You won’t be alone. You’ll have a whole room of classmates to keep you company. I was like you when I was little. I was scared I wouldn’t make any friends, or that the other students would hate me. But that didn’t happen. I made friends. I got to spend time with people outside of the house. Uncle Kuroko and Mama were all people I met at school. Don’t you want to make friends like that?”

His son beamed and nodded once before looping his arms around Akashi’s neck to hug him. They then finish walking into school and dropping him off at class. He then walked back to his car alone. Sliding into the back seat when the driver opened the door for him.

“Shall we head to the office now sir?”

“In a minute,” Akashi replied. Leaning back in his seat to rest his head back against the rich leather. A hand over his eyes. “Circle the block a few times. I don’t want to leave them alone just yet.”

Aomine

“Hn? You don’t want to go to school now?” Aomine asked as son stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Digging his heels in about not wanting to take one step further. “But you have to go to school.”

“No I don’t! And you can’t make me!” The mini-Aomine yelled back. His father sighed.

“Yes, you do. It’s the law and, I would know, I’m a cop.” He pointed his thumb to himself, wearing his uniform, as this was supposed to be a quick drop off before he went in for his shift. “Do you want me to arrest you on your first day of school?”

“You wouldn’t do that!” The little boy replied. All bravado like his father, before his shoulders sank and his bottom lip stuck out. “I don’t want to go. School is boring. And what if the kids are mean to me. I’d rather stay home with Daddy….”

Aomine sighed and rubbed the back of his head. He couldn’t really argue with the school being boring part. He hated school when he was a kid, but he had to go. “Listen, Daddy can’t stay home with you today because he has to go to work. And you can’t come to work with me because, if you do, we’ll catch all the bad guys and then what will I do for work the next day.” The mini-Aomine snickered.

Aomine then leaned down to get eye level with his son. “I’m sure the kids will be nice. There’s bound to be one good egg in the bunch. Maybe you can even find someone to play basketball with.” His son’s eyes sparkled at that. “But, if any kids are mean to you, you tell me and I’ll come back and arrest them.” He held out his handcuffs to make a point. “Sound good?”

His son giggled again and told him, “deal!” before they both walk into the school for drop off. Thankfully, no one at the school was arrested that day. School was his son’s new favorite place. At least for now anyway.

Kise

“Are you sure they have to go now? Maybe we could keep them home for another year??”

“Ryo….” His significant other warned as they got their daughter up to the school, each holding one of her hands, for drop off.

“Don’t worry Daddy! I’ll be fine!” The little girl chirped. Practically skipping the whole way there she was so excited.

“Really? Are you sure princess? Because, if you want to start school tomorrow, Daddy would be totally fine with that.”

“Ryouta!”

“No, that’s ok Daddy.” She replied with a big grin. “I want to go and make new friends! I’m excited to show everyone my new dress you got me.” His princess did a little modeling twirl they had practiced, and Kise’s heart broke into a thousand pieces only to be reformed instantly again with love. “I’m gonna go inside now. See you after school!”

“Do you want Daddy to walk you to your classroom?!”

“No!” His daughter called back. Unaware she had just stomped on her father’s newly reformed heart.

“They grow up so fast….”

“Honestly Ryouta.” His s/o said, shaking their head, as they offered him a tissue. “It’s the kids that are usually crying on the first day. Not the parents.”

Kuroko

“Sweetheart….you have to go to school.” Kuroko tried to reason with his daughter, who was holding her backpack and her breath until Kuroko ‘gave up’.

Of course, she couldn’t hold it that long in the end. Her lungs were very small.

She let out a gasp of air, quickly inhaling new breath into her lungs as fast as she could fill them, but still pouted. “Why can’t you be my teacher Papa?!”

“Because,” Kuroko reasoned, as if they haven’t been over this a hundred times, “you need to have someone else be your teacher. It’s not fair to have Papa be your teacher.”

“But it’s not fair that other kids have Papa for their teacher!” She argued back. “I don’t want to go if I can’t see Papa and have to share him….”

Kuroko sighed before offering them a smile. “We’ll still be at the same school. So I’ll see you at lunch time or on the playground. Ms. Himora is really nice too. You’ll like being in her class. I’ve told her all about you and she’s excited to see your drawings.”

His daughter perked up at that. Art and drawing being one of her passions.

She agreed to go, but only on the condition that she wanted to see this other teacher’s art supplies. Ms. Himora of course showed them to her, and let her color the whole afternoon. Kuroko tried not to seem irritated that by the end of the day his little girl was calling her her favorite teacher.

Midorima

“Do you have your notebook?” Midorima asked as he walked his son to school. “Pens? Paper? Pencil?”

“Yes Dad…” His son replied sullenly, walking beside the taller green haired man as they come up to the school. When he saw the brick building, however, he tightened the hold on his hand.

“Hm? What’s wrong?”

“Dad I….I don’t want to go to school.” Midorima gave a surprised ‘hn?’ in response, but his son just looked down. Fidgeting with his glasses. “What if….what if the teacher is scary? What if the other kids don’t like me? What if no one wants to play with me?” The young boy began to spiral and sniffling, thinking about all the things that could go wrong.

His father sighed and knelt down in front of him. “What do we always say?”

“Man proposes, God disposes.”

“Right.” Midorima replied. Not seeming phased by how his life’s motto sound so much less intimidating coming from such a cute, small voice. “We have to do our best to make sure things work out. We can’t worry about what could go wrong. That’s God’s job. We focus on the now.” He pulled a key chain out of his pocket and handed it to his son. “Take today’s lucky item with you. It’ll keep you safe.”

“But Dad! What about you?!”

“I’ll be alright. You just make sure you get to class on time and have a good day.”

His son came home later that afternoon to tell him all about the amazing day he had at his new school. His teacher was nice. His classmates really liked him. They even served his favorite in the cafeteria!

Midorima was happy for his son, and choose not to tell him that he had had the day from hell without his lucky item. From that day forward they each got their own.

Murasakibara

“Eh…? You don’t want to go to school?” Murasakibara looked at his daughter as she shook her head. Scuffing her new shoes on the sidewalk. “How come? You have to give me a good reason to skip your first day.”

“I…I don’t want to go…” She replied softly. His little girl incredibly shy. “What if the other kids make fun of me?” Murasakibara hummed a little. He supposed that was a good reason.

For better or worse, his children had inherited his height. It wasn’t so bad for her older brothers. Being tall was an admirable attribute for boys. For girls though…..well….it just made his angel that much bigger of a target.

“If the kids make fun of you, tell them your dad is even taller and he’ll stick them in a tree and leave them there if they make fun of you.” The little girl giggled, clearly picturing the image, but still didn’t seem convinced to go. Murasakibara knelt down so he wasn’t towering so much over her and patted her head. “School is important. You need to go so you can be smart like you Mom. Not a dumb dumb like your Dad.” He smoothed out her hair from ruffling it. It had taken them a while to get it right, and he didn’t want to ruin it. “But, I’ll be here when you get out today and we’ll go get ice cream as a reward. Our secret.”

His daughter beamed at the promise of ice cream and nodded eagerly. She then went off to school without any complaints. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree. You could get him to do anything for ice cream too.

[flightfoot]

If anyone wants to read a fanfic focusing on Alya’s problems and feelings, centered around her as a person, I HIGHLY recommend “can you keep a secret?” by euphorickiri. 

It starts off looking like it’s mostly just gonna be interested in shipping Alyadrien (which it DOES do very effectively), with early chapters having a good portion of the plot be driven by Alya suspecting that Adrien’s Chat Noir and wanting to spend more time with him, find out more about him in order to become sure of it.

But even then, even as early as chapter 1, you get to see that there’s more going in with Alya than you’d normally see in such a fic. That she can’t get herself to post to the Ladyblog after the Lady Wifi business, that people at school are treating her differently after being akumatized, along with going over her current issues with her friends and family, things that are shown and develop more and more as the series goes on.

In chapter 1:

Nino was her closest friend besides Marinette. They bonded quickly over their mutual love for comic books and have only grown closer since then. Often when Alya felt like she couldn’t talk to Marinette, Nino was always there to lend an ear. This was happening a lot more recently than she wanted to admit. She didn’t know exactly what was going on, but Alya wasn’t stupid. Marinette was hiding something from her. Something big. She showed up to school half-asleep most of the time and when asked to hang out she came up with every excuse in the book to avoid going. There were even certain times she would just disappear without telling anyone. It seemed like it was taking a huge toll on her and Alya didn’t want to add to that burden. So she plastered a smile on her face for her best friend and supported her in any way she could. Still, she couldn’t help but be suspicious about what was going on.

She hated how much Lady Wifi took over her life. She pretended not to see the dirty looks people sent her, ignoring how hurt she felt. Nino was right. They weren’t themselves when they were akumatized. But that didn’t mean everyone sympathized with akuma victims. And she was no exception. Even Chloe was wary around her now. Chloe . The most fearsome person at school. So Alya preferred not to talk about it at all. It was just something else she had to deal with.

She wasn’t weak. She wasn’t . She could handle herself.

And with chapter two, it starts laying the foundation of her family situation.

“What do you guys want?” Alya asked tiredly.

“Breakfast,” Ella replied. “Can you make chocolate chip pancakes again?”

Alya ran a hand over her face and looked over at her alarm clock, relieved she had a decent amount of time to get herself and her sisters ready for school. Her parents worked during the day so it became Alya’s responsibility to look after the twins. Make sure they get to school, pick them up from school, feed them, dress them - everything. It could be draining, and as much as she loved her sisters, they were still kids who acted out and refused to cooperate at the worst times. But if she didn’t look after them, no one else would. Her parents, especially her mom, were too engrossed in their work. The one time Nora did come home to visit, Ella and Etta didn't know who she was. That’s how long she’s been gone.

So, this was Alya’s burden to carry. Alone.

“You guys have to eat something other than pancakes every morning,” Alya scolded, reaching for her phone. “I’ll make oatmeal with some fruit instead.”

As the story goes on, Alya’s family situation with her parents fighting and using her as a go-between while pretending everything’s alright, with herself being her younger sisters’ rock, becomes a bigger part of the story and necessary background to the emotional struggle Alya goes through, informing a lot of her character and why her thought process is the way it is.

The rest of the day consisted of Alya trying to get Marinette to speak with occasional assistance from Nino and Adrien. Nothing worked. The only person able to get a reaction out of her was Juleka. The other teen waved passing their table during lunchtime and Marinette waved back. And as worried as she was, Alya couldn’t help but be a little annoyed. There have been days where all Alya wanted to do was yell at anyone who dared to approach her. But she never took it out on Marinette or anyone else. But here they were, the situations revered, and Marinette wouldn’t even look at her . What made Juleka the exception?

No one wants you.

Alya pushed her tray of food away, her appetite gone.

She almost pulled her hair out when Miss Bustier told everyone to sit with their partners during their last class of the day and Marinette bolted out of her seat. Alya tried to hide her irritation when she saw Marinette and Juleka talking out of the corner of her eye as if everything was normal.

“Remember your projects are due tomorrow! I’m giving you the entire class period today to finish up,” Miss Bustier announced. “I’m very excited to see your presentations!”

Adrien slid into Marinette’s empty seat. “We need to find a couple more pictures for the poster but other than that we’re good.”

“I agree.” Alya glared when Marinette laughed at something Juleka said, not paying attention to his words. “We should do that.”

Oh? So quick to replace me? She tensed up as her own words mocked her.

Marinette rested her head on Juleka’s shoulder. Don’t worry, you’ll always be my number 1 partner. You’re irreplaceable.

Wrong. You’re disposable .

Alya’s feelings and emotions are validated by the narrative, even though she has the wrong idea about Marinette replacing her. 

Lady Wifi plays a big role in the story as well, since she’s not actually gone, and serves as a kind of embodiment of Alya’s negative emotions and worst impulses, as well as a looming threat. The tension between her and Alya helps accentuate the emotional heart of the story.

Alya also gets to disagree and talk things out with Ladybug and Master Fu, when she doesn’t agree on their handling of situations, though with them not being demonized in the process either. 

Just... if you want to read a fic focused around Alya’s problems and emotions, but that treats everyone else well too, that gives her a lot of agency and also a lot of support, I HIGHLY recommend this fic.

[buryyourfavouritestrope]

Until it becomes a Memory - Daisuke Kambe

Author Note: This is a pile of Word Vomit, I watched Balance Unlimited and man I adored it. Especially this Salty Winter Adult. None of the below makes coherent sense but hey, life's too short to leave things unread by others.

Everyone who had ever visited the Kambe residence to speak to the heir knew about the painting. Often enough they found themselves stood beside the young man whose eyes focused only on the putrid baby blues that encircles a deep red misshapen figure. Many, in hushed whispers, had commented on how out of place the canvas seemed amongst the elegant wooden décor of the home.

It hung just outside his bedroom in a hallway trodden by very few. He, himself, had placed a chair opposite it for when he found himself unable to sleep. He’d sit there staring at the figure until he succumbed to sleep. Suzue would find him the next morning, curled against the chair, his head leaning on the crook of his arm. She’d suggested once that he move the canvas to his bedroom, only to be thrown a grim look and a sarcastic comment. It kept the nightmares at bay.

Kambe couldn’t blame her; it’s what any normal person would do. He couldn’t. He despised the painting. Everyone did, including his grandmother. The woman refused to enter the hallway, not until the painting disappeared. She’d even so much as asked their faithful servant to dispose of it whilst Kambe was busy – his attempt had failed thanks to Suzue. Perhaps one of the only people within Daisuke’s household that understood the importance hidden within the canvas.

His grandmother held no harmful intent; she just wanted to purge that period from Daisuke’s life. The man had suffered so much at a young age. There had been times where she would plead at the dinner table with the young detective. Her words reaching deaf ears as he chewed on his noodles. When her words hit too close to home, he quips a witty retort paired with a sarcastic growl. In those moments she could see his mother.

The painting held no real value. It was common knowledge. Suzue and his grandmother would have said something about it had it not been for the glint in Kambe’s usually dull eyes. A spark of fight and something none of them have ever seen before as he runs his gaze over every streak of paint. That very spark prevents them to speaking and instead they leave the man be.

A sigh relieves itself from Daisuke as he stands from his seat; he took a few strides forward his eyes never once leaving the soft brush strokes that had dried against the material. Kambe rubbed the sleep from his vision as he reminisced. He could still feel the fingers that wrapped around his upper arm and pulled him through the corridors of his home. The sound of overexcited laughter echoed in the aged wood wrapped around his heart squeezing at vary degrees of strength.

‘These cases just get more complicated, I thought it would be easier than this but every time I think I’m making progress something stops me’ Daisuke’s voice contrasted with the oozing silence surrounding him. ‘You’d know exactly what to do if you were here. I can picture it now-‘

‘Kambe’ Haru barked; the sudden appearance of his partner startled Daisuke. This had been expected, at some point Haru would turn up back here. An unjust anger in tow as he marched down the corridor. The embassy case had been closed, but Haru had come under fire for the death of a suspect, Daisuke had done nothing to help the older man. It hadn’t just been due to the fact he was off duty; he’d chosen to remain quiet.

Kambe’s eye twitched, his focus returning to the painting. If he remained quiet, let Haru vent, perhaps the detective inspector would leave. He’d be able to return to the serenity that had been his thoughts. If his friend had been here, they’d have persuaded Haru to calm down, they’d have laughed and shared some food at the expense of Kambe. They always handled people better than he did.

‘Hey, are you listening?’ Haru practically screamed as he stepped closer to Kambe; Daisuke remained firm. There was nothing he needed to speak to Kato about. He was handling this – whatever the bigger picture is. He’d handle it alone; it was safer that way. The fewer people around, the easier it would be. ‘Damn Rich kid, pay attention to people when they speak to you’

He didn’t need to see what was happening, he felt it. Haru’s balling around the material of his shirt in an aggressive attempt to grab Daisuke’s attention. Briefly – very briefly – Daisuke’s eyes flicked to look at Haru. In that second the world froze, Daisuke’s emotionless eyes, often filled with amusement, turned to Haru. As if Haru’s arms moved on their own he dropped Daisuke, his hands falling at his side.

‘I have nothing I wish to discuss, you should leave’ Daisuke commanded. The very sound of his voice knocked the older man from his shock, a guttural growl resonating in the air as he flung his arm back.

Everything slowed in that minute; Kato’s limbs swam leisurely through the air as Daisuke’s gaze flicked back to his partner. It hadn’t fully registered in Kambe’s mind as he watched helplessly. They both knew it hadn’t been Kato’s intention; he hadn’t registered how close he was to the wall.

It was an accident. It was an accident. A voice in Daisuke’s subconscious spoke the same four words like a mantra as he seethed. In an apoplectic haze he grabbed his senior. Kato’s body unbalanced fell against the air, unable to steady himself to fight back he let himself be thrown into the opposite wall. His head colliding with the wooden windowsill.

‘You weren’t invited here Detective Inspector Kato. You’re trespassing, I suggest you leave’ Daisuke growled; both heard the sharp inhale of Suzue as she rushed through the door at the end of the corridor. Her gaze observing the two men, her family who stood towering over Haru with fists balled at his side – his attention solely on the man and Haru who lifted himself against the wall, it was clear as he staggered slightly that the impact had made him dizzy.

‘Daisuke’ She uttered, Kambe clenched his jaw inhaling deeply as he turned around. The canvas hung at an angle; the material had been punctured. For the smallest second, he chastised his friend’s choice in canvas material.

‘It’s just a painting. Buy a new one. A rich kid like you always flaunting your wealth. Surely you can buy another one.’ Haru whistled. Kambe didn’t need to look to picture the Suzue’s reaction. A pleading expression plastered across her face as she moved closer to help Haru.

A rich kid like you. Daisuke finds himself repeating the short phrase. It had been said to Kambe before – plenty of times before and yet this time it struck him worse. For once he couldn’t throw money at the canvas. The damage had been done; money couldn’t solve his problem the way it could on a case. A soft chuckle rang through the air. Daisuke placed his head in his hands as he fell to his knees.

‘I wouldn’t expect you to understand,’ He admits, ‘I didn’t buy that canvas, it was a gift. One given to me by someone very dear to me. I guess you say it had no monetary value. It held some precious memories’ He continued.

‘You asked me how much I care about you, well…tah dah’ her voice bounced off the walls and rang through his ears. He relished in the happy tones as she released his arm. A quizzical look filled the man’s expression as he took in her appearance. Paint plastered across her skin, hair dishevelled and caked in the same colours that covered most of her clothing.

Once he’d had his fill, he followed her gaze, eyes widening as he took in the newest decoration. In place of his landscape portrait hung a horrendous mixture of colours and in the centre stood a deep burgundy figure and for a second, he hoped she hadn’t drawn a reflection of himself

‘Well?’ She questioned.

‘It’s awful, breathtakingly awful. I’d go as far as to say gut-wrenching,’ Daisuke commented. He listened to her as she roared with laughter, her hands holding her sides as she doubled over.

‘That’s exactly it. I care about you so much that its gut wrenching. Every moment I spend with you takes my breathe away in the most horrendously beautiful way.’ She announced, as she calmed her laughter she reached for his arm, her head falling against his shoulder as they both observed the horrendous decoration. ‘Plus, every home needs at least one ugly piece of furniture, something that just absorbs the good memories and no matter how long you look at it, no matter how much you hate it, it’ll remind you of the good things, it’ll remind you how much I love you, Daisuke Kambe’

Daisuke’s fingers wrapped around hers as he remained silent. Just the two of them watching the painting as though it were some priceless portraits in a museum.

‘You never know how important something is until it becomes a memory’ Kambe uttered.

‘Kambe,’ Haru’s voice shook Daisuke from his memories. His hands falling to his lap as he listened.

[rcmissicn]

{ B A S I C S }

LEGAL NAME: NESTOR CHE CASTILLO

GENDER: CIS MALE

AGE: 46

DOB: FEBRUARY 9, 1975

PLACE OF BIRTH: MIAMI, FLORIDA

NATIONALITY: AMERICAN

ETHNICITY:  CUBAN

EDUCATION: UNDERGRADUATE COURSE WORK AND COMPLETION OF A DEGREE IN PUBLIC POLICY.COMPLETION OF JURIS DOCTORATE.

OCCUPATION: FORMER POLITICIAN ( MEMBER OF STATE SENATE/LOST NATIONAL SENATE RUN ), LAWYER, ADVOCATE, ACTIVIST, FINANCIAL BACKER/ADVISOR OF UP AND COMING PROGRESSIVE DEMOCRATIC SENATE CANDIDATE

LANGUAGES:  SPANISH, ENGLISH, LIMITED FRENCH AND GERMAN

RELIGION: CATHOLIC

ORIENTATION: QUEER ( DOES NOT QUANTIFY IF THAT IS BISEXUAL, HOMOSEXUAL, OR PANSEXUAL ) ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS PRIMARILY WITH FEMALES AND MALES

DRINK | SMOKE | DRUGS: YES |  CIGARS | NO

{ P H Y S I C A L  A T T R I B U T E S }

HAIR COLOR: BLACK

EYE COLOR: DARK BROWN

HEIGHT: 6′ 

WEIGHT: 190 LBS

TATTOOS: NONE

SCARS: MINOR SCARRING FROM CHILDHOOD INJURIES, SOME PROMINENT SCARRING FROM A SERIOUS CAR ACCIDENT IN HIS EARLY TWENTIES 

{ P E R S O N A L I T Y }

+ CHARISMATIC, FOCUSED, GENEROUS, INSIGHTFUL, PASSIONATE

- BLUNT, EGOTISTICAL, IMPATIENT, PARANOID, VINDICTIVE

{ R E L A T I O N S H I P S }

MONTEZ CASTILLO  - 72  - FATHER

YANET CASTILLO - 67 - MOTHER

UNNAMED EX-PARTNER (F) - 43 - FORMER ROMANTIC PARTNER

RALEIGH MIRA - 21 - SON ( ADOPTED )

ANTON CASTILLO - 14 - SON

{ B I O G R A P H Y }

AS CLICHE AS IT MAY BE, MONTEZ CASTILLO HAD ONE DREAM FOR HIS FAMILY, THE PROVERBIAL AMERICAN DREAM. AFTER A NEAR DEATH AND BONE CHILLING SWIM, HE AND HIS BRIDE MADE THEIR NEW HOME IN MIAMI

A POPULOUS PLACE FOR THOSE WHO HAD MADE THE SAME TREK, MONTEZ ESTABLISHED HIMSELF AS A HARD WORKING, SELF-EMPLOYED, FAMILY OWNED BUSINESS MAN. HIS DREAM STARTED WITH ONE RESTAURANT AND SOON EXPANDED INTO OTHER AREAS OF HOSPITALITY UNTIL HIS CHARM AND BUSINESS ACUMEN HAD HIM AT THE HELM OF HIS OWN HOTEL

HE FED THE SAME DESIRE AND ETHIC TO HIS ONLY SON, ENCOURAGING NESTOR TO DREAM BIGGER AND BOLDER BUT TO NEVER FORGET WHERE HE CAME FROM

ALWAYS OUTSPOKEN, MONTEZ SPOKE OPENLY ABOUT THE LIFE HE’D SURVIVED WHILE IN CUBA AND HIS DETERMINATION TO NOT SEE THE SAME FALL TO HIS FAMILY IN THE US. NESTOR PICKED UP THAT MANTLE FROM HIS FATHER, EVEN AS A CHILD ESTABLISHING HIMSELF AS PRIDEFUL AND UNWILLING TO BACKDOWN FROM ANY ARGUMENT, EVEN IF FISTS FOR WERE INVOLVED

NESTOR FOUGHT FOR THOSE WHO HAD BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY THOSE WHO DID NOT. FOLLOWING HIS MOTHER AS SHE VOLUNTEERED AND COMFORTED THOSE WHO HAD JUST TOUCHED DOWN ON THE SANDY FLORIDA SHORES. HIS PASSION WAS NOT FOR HIS BETTERMENT OR WEALTH BUT THE EXPECTATION THAT THOSE WHO WERE CITIZENS OR DESIRED TO BECOME CITIZENS WOULD HAVE ALL THEIR NEEDS MET

HE WAS STILL IN COLLEGE WHEN THE POLITICAL BUG HIT HIM. A TURN AS COUNCILMAN. A MEMBER OF  LOCAL ORGANIZATIONS AND BOARDS THAT DIDN’T FIGHT FOR THE REACH BUT IDENITIFIED THE DISPARITY THAT FELL TO SO MANY WHO HAD THE SAME STORY OF DISCRIMINATION AND LACK TO TELL

IT WAS THE SAME BUG THAT PUSHED HIM FROM PRIVATE PRACTICE INTO THE PUBLIC SECTOR AS A LAWYER ON A LIST OF DEFENDERS FOR THOSE WHO DIDN’T HAVE THE MONEY TO SEEK THEIR OWN COUNSEL

THOSE STORIES PUSHED HIM TO DO MORE THAN DEFEND IN COURT ROOMS BUT TO FIND A BIGGER AUDIENCE AND VENUE TO SPEAK ABOUT THE NEEDS OF SO MANY

IN MANY EYES HE WAS A GOOD MAN. A DETERMINED MAN. BUT HE WAS ALSO SELFISH AND PRIDEFUL. QUICK TO HIDE BEHIND ACCOMPLISHMENTS AND GOOD DEEDS WHILE NEVER ADDRESSING THE PAIN HE OFTEN BROUGHT TO OTHERS OR THE LIES HE TOLD HIMSELF

AT TIMES PEOPLE IN HIS LIFE, WERE EASILY DISPOSABLE IF HE FELT THEY WEREN’T NEEDED AT THAT MOMENT. A PICTURE OF SELFISHNESS THAT BROUGHT KARMA TO HIS DOOR AND FORCED HIM TO MAKE CHANGES

POLITICS ASIDE, HE STILL FIGHTS FOR THE COMMON PEOPLE. THOSE HARDWORKING, HUNGRY, AND SUFFERING AT THE HANDS OF A COUNTRY THEY LOVE BUT HE DOES SO IN THE BACKGROUND. UNWILLING TO FEED HIS EGO

HE ALSO HARBORS REGRETS...SEVERAL OF WHICH HE PLANS TO RECTIFY IN THE VERY NEAR FUTURE